


The Queens (sequel to My Mom & My Dad)

by melicitysmoak



Series: Olicity Family Series [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Criminal Minds, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Crime, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Suspense, The Flash - Freeform, criminal minds - Freeform, olicity - Freeform, parenting, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 90,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melicitysmoak/pseuds/melicitysmoak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This sequel picks up from the story of the Queen family five years after Oliver and Felicity's wedding.  In addition to Stephen (Oliver's son from his first marriage) and Emily (Felicity's daughter out of wedlock), they now have three children from their marriage - the twins TJ and Liv, and the toddler Carrie.  What happens to Oliver and Felicity and to their growing family as they face conflicts in their marriage, their home, and their careers?  How will they make it through together as they face the evil schemes of vengeful villains who threaten to tear their marriage and family apart?  The drama/suspense story is told from the multiple points of view of Oliver, Felicity, and their children.  It is recommended that you read "My Mom & My Dad" before reading this one, if you want to understand first how widower and CEO Oliver Queen and single mom and IT genius Felicity Smoak ended up together, and how this new story develops from the events in that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Last Three Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xanderman216](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanderman216/gifts), [Anned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anned/gifts), [KK1986](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KK1986/gifts), [tdgal1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tdgal1/gifts).



> This prologue summarizes the last three years in the married and family life of Oliver and Felicity Queen and has reference to some of the details given in the epilogue of "My Mom & My Dad." I hope you enjoy this new story! Hello! to Xanderman216 and Anned.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own ARROW and its characters; they belong to DC and the CW. The plot for this AU, however, and the characters of the Queen children are mine.

Emily Queen:

Hi there! Are you up for another story? Well, I hope you are. Coz this time around, my older brother Stephen and I are even better storytellers. You see, I'm eight now and a proud second grader! Although my school's guidance counselor told my mom that my IQ test says I have the cognitive abilities of a fifth grader, my mom chose to let me stay with kids my age because she didn't want me accelerated three grades up at the expense of my physical, emotional, and social development. While she may be right, sometimes I do get bored in class. Some of my teachers don't have a clue how to keep up with me. I think that gets in the way of my emotional-social development. Don't you think so?

The good news is that my asthma attacks have now come far in between. Dr. Fischer says that in many cases, children outgrow their asthmatic condition as they reach age 7 or 8. I think my name can be added to the statistics that support that observation by medical experts. I and everyone in our household have somehow mastered keeping me away from the allergens that could trigger my allergies and asthma attacks. So, life has never been better for me than it has in the last year or so.

Stephen, on the other hand, is now fourteen and taller than our mom. He still plays basketball and has gotten to be an expert at the sport. He can now take on our dad on the playing court, even if Dad is still about six inches taller than him, because he has better shooting skills. He recently joined the school's varsity team. You know what I think? He's in it not just for the training... but for the attention. You see, once he hit puberty, he's been constantly looking out for cool, cute girls. I don't know... maybe it's true what the textbooks say about raging hormones. (Giggles)

Stephen Queen:

Hey! Quit it, Ems! You're embarrassing me already, and we haven't even started on chapter one yet.

Emily:

Just kidding! I can't get enough of that look on your face each time you get all flustered!

Stephen:

Just stop, will you?!

(Sigh) Well, for those of you who are reading this now, I think you're getting a pretty good idea of how much my younger sister and I have changed since we first told you the story of how her mom Felicity Smoak and my dad Oliver Queen ended up together. It's been three years since you last heard from us... or five years since our parents were married. It might be a good idea to tell you what's been happening to our family and friends.

For starters, the twins have also grown bigger and taller... and smarter, too. They're almost four now, and even if they drive all of us crazy, they're really adorable! TJ is the silent and shy type. He and Liv are in preschool now and they're beginning to read, but he's the one who devours children's books like he does breakfast cereals. Mom decided to get him a borrower's card from the Starling City Library because buying him new books each week had become too costly and impractical even for the Queen family budget. He also loves to draw, paint, and work with play-dough, and for his age, I think he's going to turn out to be a Picasso someday. I think that's how he expresses himself better. Right now he's fascinated with cars, motorcycles, trains, and airplanes, so those are all he ever draws these days. This is why Dad enjoys keeping him company. They bond by going to car shows and visiting automobile showrooms and going on different rides in amusement parks.

Emily:

Liv is the outgoing and talkative type, and takes after you-know-who... only faster. I mean, Mom and I can babble, yes, but Liv? She rambles faster than The Flash can run. It can get really annoying many times, but because she can't quite pronounce her "r" and "l" well enough yet, her jabbering and gibbering can be so funny that everyone's learning to overlook how bothersome it is in favor of finding it cute and then laughing. She's also pretty good with numbers, patterns, and puzzles. One time in a children's activity center in the mall, she discovered what the Chinese abacus was. She wouldn't leave the mall that day without walking out with one, so Dad bought her the largest abacus the store had. I guess, this is why she and Mom get along really well. They somehow have this special bond between them. Mom says when Liv moves on to first grade, she's gonna start teaching her about creating and cracking codes... whatever that means.

Stephen:

Our youngest sibling is now the apple of everyone's eye. Carrie Cruiser Queen was named by our mother as a sort of "souvenir" of the Caribbean cruise that our dad took her on when they found out they were expecting again. Carrie is now two years old, and she is, as Dad proudly puts it, "the most beautiful girl ever born," and rightly so, in my opinion. Surprisingly, Carrie came out a brunette like my Aunt Thea, but she has Mom's smooth and wavy hair texture. Her face is shaped like Dad's but her nose is definitely Mom's. She also inherited our parents' ocean blue eyes, and she has the most charming, most captivating smile anyone could ever lay eyes on. At two, she could melt any person's heart with just a grin or a chuckle. I wouldn't be surprised if, when she grows up into a young lady, boys will be lining up at our door just to ask her out, that is, if they can get past my dad. Dad calls her "my pretty princess" all the time, bragging to every stranger that asks about her being the princess of our royal family, although I find that this makes Emily quite jealous. (Smirk)

Emily:

I can't help it! I used to be the little angel in the family before she arrived. (Pout) I bet when she's a little older, we'll find out that she's not even half as smart as me or Liv. Can't have everything, you know. It's beauty or brains.

Stephen:

Sure. Liv is the Brain. Carrie is the Beauty. And you're the Beast.

Emily:

I can't believe you just said that! Before the twins and Dad's pretty princess, there were just us. I thought you were on my side.

Stephen:

It's my turn to kid around, Ems. Now we're even. (Smirk again) Come on, you know how much Dad loves you. He's gone through the entire adoption process just to give you his last name so that you can be a proud Queen, too. Now, don't be a sour puss, and get on with the story.

Emily:

Oh, okay! (Sigh and pout)

Carrie was born on an unforgettable day. She sure knew how to make an entrance.

Wearing a beautiful white silk wedding gown, Aunt Sara Lance was walking down the aisle towards Uncle Tommy Merlyn, who was standing tall and handsome in his charcoal black tux near the altar in Rev. Olsen's church, when Mom's water broke and she started to go into labor. The bridal march was unintentionally yet inelegantly interrupted as the startled musicians suddenly stopped playing when Dad started yelling Diggle's name in panic. Queen family members and close friends skirmished their way out of the pews and rushed to help get her into the stretch limousine that Diggle quickly fetched. Dad helped Mom walk to the front door of the church, her legs dripping with gooey stuff. With one arm she was clutching her oversized tummy, and with her other hand she massaged her aching pelvis as she walked as quickly yet as carefully as she could. (She was way too big and heavy for Dad to carry at that point without it being uncomfortable for her.) Stephen, TJ, Liv, Grandma Moira, Walter Steele, Aunt Thea, her boyfriend Roy Harper (who is now her fiancé), Lyla and daughter Sara, and I - we all scuffled to the exit and then squeezed ourselves into the limo one by one even before Mom and Dad reached the vehicle.

Stephen:

Upon seeing the motley crew of excited family members and friends packed inside the limo, Dad became furious. "What are you all doing in there?! Will some of you please get out? Felicity needs to lie down in there. Please! We don't have much time!"

Walter Steele spoke with a stern voice as he stepped out of the limo. "Oliver's right," he said. "Everyone, move out of the vehicle. We'll let Stephen and Thea accompany Oliver and Felicity to the hospital. The rest of us will go back inside and finish the ceremony."

Grandma looked at him disapprovingly from inside the car. "But Walter, I want to be there for my new grandchild this time. I was out of town when the twins were born."

Mr. Steele was about to answer her when he caught a glimpse of my mom from the corner of his eye. She nodded, giving her approval, and managed a faint smile in the midst of her obviously excruciating situation. So, the dark-skinned, refined Englishman obliged Grandma, saying, "Alright. You go with them, Moira. Thea, Roy, and I will take care of Emily and the twins and head back inside. We'll go straight to the hospital as soon as the ceremony finishes off."

Grandma smiled and motioned for the others to step out of the limo, leaving her and me with Mom and Dad inside as Diggle turned on the ignition. We were at Starling City General in less than ten minutes.

Emily:

That day would go down in the history of the Queen family as a day of irony. Everyone was happy and excited to welcome Carrie into the world, but there was also a certain sadness and regret that not one of us got to be in any of the post-ceremony photo shoots of the long-awaited Lance-Merlyn wedding. Aunt Thea said that as soon as the reverend said "You may now kiss the bride," they had left the church and rushed to the hospital, finding Mom and little Carrie already in the recovery room. Roy was disappointed about skipping the reception. That was supposed to be the first time he'd get a chance to dine in the grand ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel.

Stephen:

While our mom rested in the maternity suite and our new baby sister slept soundly in the bassinet, we all sat down as a family in the small living room a few meters away and talked about how that day turned out. At first, we all felt guilty and embarrassed for holding up the bride's march and stealing the scene, but soon we were all laughing at the thought of how Dad would have to be the one to apologize to his best friend and sister-in-law.

"I wonder what it would take for Tommy and Sara to forgive you, Ollie," Aunt Thea had teased, bursting into laughter as soon as she finished her sentence.

"You think that's funny, huh?" Dad had said, casting a peeved look at her sister. "And what about getting on that stretch limo and squeezing your over-enthusiastic butts in there like a can of sardines? I mean, what were you guys thinking? We appreciate your enthusiasm, but that was pretty stupid. Did you really expect a pregnant lady who's in labor to lie down across your laps from the church to the hospital?" Everyone laughed.

"Well," Grandma interrupted, "at least I got to be the first one to hold my beautiful granddaughter this time around. She's just... wonderful! She looks just like you, Thea, when you were born. So Ollie, if that's the prize of stupidity, then it was all worth it."

My dad walked over to his mother and gave her an affectionate hug. "Thanks, Mom, for being here this time. And you're right. She is a beautiful baby, and her name is Carrie. Carrie Cruiser Queen, my pretty princess."

Emily:

Well, so much for our pretty little princess. (Eyes rolling) Let's talk about Mom and Dad. I'm sure that's what our friends are waiting to hear about. Right?

Mom and Dad have been married for five years now and they're doing okay. By okay, I mean they're healthy and strong. Dad still works out in the gym and jogs regularly, and he still tries to do that at least once a week with Stephen. No one would think he's already thirty-five because he's really handsome and fit, and very much a "hunk" as women like to describe attractive guys these days. He is still the CEO of Queen Consolidated, and despite the pressures at work, he manages quite well.

Mom is fine, well, not as healthy and fit as Dad. She is still very pretty with hardly any wrinkles at age thirty, and still physically attractive, considering she's given birth three times already. But, Dad worries about her sometimes because she hasn't been exercising regularly and working out with him for over a year now. The only parts of her body that have been getting a daily workout are her fingers, as she types away on her computer keyboard, laptop, or tablet for long hours day and night. She also lacks the normal eight-hour sleep, so she has those dark rings under her eyes that she hides with her ever-reliable Mary Kay concealer.

Over the last year, Mom had gotten sick with the flu three times. Dad keeps reminding her to take it easy and not overwork herself because she can easily catch a virus or other bacteria that her immune system won't be able to handle as well as normal people who still have spleens. But, like anyone with a brilliant mind, a passionate heart, and a driven personality, Mom often ignores the reminders that are really for her own good. She stubbornly thinks she can juggle her time and allocate her energy reserves to accomplish a multitude of tasks that include: running the Queen household, caring for a husband and five kids, tutoring us with schoolwork, attending parent-teachers meetings, and her latest stressor of all... working as head of QC's IT department and as the new President of the company's Board of Directors.

Stephen:

You got that right. Last year at around this time, Walter Steele married our grandmother Moira and during their wedding reception, they announced their retirement and their plans of moving to England for good. That first part was expected. Grandma was obviously fond of Walter for several years already. She was in love with him even before the man revealed his true feelings for her. It's like she had just been waiting to be proposed to. Grandma seemed to have found love sweeter the second time around, so she didn't think twice about moving to London with him and giving up her life with all of us here. A month after their honeymoon, we were at the Starling City International Airport sending them off and waving goodbyes with tears in our eyes.

Because of this major change, our parents had a change of plans. When Carrie turned one year old, they had started looking into the real estate market for a house to purchase so that we could move out of the Queen mansion, just as Mom had wanted since the birth of TJ and Liv. But when Grandma and Walter announced their move to London, Dad decided for us to stay. "Felicity Queen is now the one and only Queen in this house," he had said as soon as we walked into the foyer coming home from the airport, bringing a smile to our mother that went up to her eyes.

But Felicity was not only the Queen of the house. With an empty president's seat in QC's Board that happened at the same time the head of its IT department resigned, our dad took the opportunity to offer both positions to our mom once again. The shares of stocks that Walter and Moira had transferred to Oliver's name, and the ones that Ray Palmer had transferred to Felicity's name before our parents got married, made them both the majority stockholders of the company. Thus, our mom had every right to fill in Walter Steele's shoes as President of the company. Dad didn't want to wait for another power-hungry investor or Board member to attempt to take over the presidency, so he pleaded with Mom to reconsider. This time, she couldn't think of any more excuses since she was no longer taking care of a helpless infant, so she finally obliged him.

I remember one of their conversations in the car as we were coming home from church one Sunday. "Oliver," she had asked, "do you really think I'm ready? I mean, I'm fine just being an IT consultant. Are you sure I can do it?"

I had noticed my dad's right hand letting go of the steering wheel, reaching for my mom's hand and clasping it in his. "Felicity, Honey, I wouldn't ask you again if I didn't think you can do it. You are a brilliant, multi-talented woman, and I'm so proud of you. It would be both a privilege and a pleasure to have you as my partner in running the company that my parents built."

"I love you," she said, glancing at him.

"Is that a yes?" he asked with a wide grin on his face that could be seen on the rear view mirror.

"Mm-hmm," she replied. And then she leaned over to her left and kissed him on the cheek and then on whispered something into his ear that made them both chuckle.

Emily:

I used to think that Mom and Dad's fluff was gross. I used to catch them kissing and hugging in their room or in their bathroom whenever I'd forget to knock. They used to hold hands anywhere and everywhere. Sure, their Friday date nights are still on, but lately, I've been wishing to see more of the fluff back in their relationship.

Since Mom became extremely busy at work trying to fill the shoes of both IT department supervisor and Board president, she has also become increasingly serious and stressed out at home. Although she's still able to keep herself from yelling at anyone when her patience runs out, usually taking a deep breath and just walking away from a mess or a possible fight, she seems unhappy. I miss her winsome smiles and funny, clever remarks. I miss her hilarious babbling. I miss shopping days with her. I miss her bubbly personality. These days, all she's concerned about is getting all her QC tasks, household chores and errands, and childcare responsibilities done, and then she retires to their bedroom as soon as all her energies have been sucked out of her frail body.

Our weekly routines had also changed since Mom began to work full-time, and that was not just because we had to fit baby Carrie into the scheme. It used to be that our parents reserved Mondays to spend time with Stephen, Tuesdays with me, Wednesdays with TJ, and Thursdays with Liv. Saturdays were our park days, and Sundays were for church and family time. Those were reduced to weekend family times at the mall, the park, the theater, or at home doing leisure activities together... with Mom either tinkering with her tablet to get some work done while we play games, or dozing off on the couch long before the movie we were watching was over. Dad would lovingly pick her up, kiss her, carry her upstairs to their room, and tuck her to bed.

I have no doubt that Mom loves us more than anything in this world, but I knew things were getting worse - for her and for us - especially when she started bringing home work a few months ago. She spent less quality time with Dad and us. Most nights after dinner, she'd be cooped up in her computer lab while Dad watches TV or DVDs with us or works out in the gym. Dad has been very understanding. He tells us that Mom has very important responsibilities in the company, and that he is very proud of her amazing accomplishments since she took over Walter Steele's job. He didn't have the heart to complain. After all, this was his idea.

Stephen:

I guess this is all Emily and I can share up to this point. Two things will, hopefully, make this story different and unique from our first one. First, Emily and I can't tell you what's going to happen next because it hasn't happened yet. Like you, we are wondering how the next chapter in the life of the Queen family would turn out. Second, we will let Mom and Dad, TJ and Liv, and hopefully, even Carrie help us narrate what happens next.

Would you like to find out? Then read on.


	2. Manic Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day for the Queen family, but stress catches up with them. Conflicts begin to surface, and relationships are tested.

Oliver:

I could feel - instead of hear - my phone buzzing near my head. It's my wake up call. I reach for my night table with my eyes still closed, groping for the vibrating kill-joy gadget that cut short a beautiful dream of me and my wife walking hand in hand on a strip of white sand beach in an exotic tropical island as a fiery red sun set over the horizon. Just like most Mondays, I struggle to get out of bed, bargaining with a piece of technology for a few more minutes to snuggle up close to the woman of my dreams.

I roll over to my left side, reaching for Felicity on her side of the bed, but there was nothing but sheets. Surprised, I open my eyes, which had refused to do so just a few seconds ago. "She's up early," I say to myself. "That's odd. My wife rarely gets up before I do, especially on a Monday morning." So I get up from bed and head for the bathroom to see if she's there. I walk past our spacious walk-in closet towards the bathroom, and I see that the lights are on.

As I enter through the doorway, a fresh-from-the-shower Felicity with a pink-and-white striped towel wrapped around her torso comes into full view. She's standing in front of the bathroom counter, looking intently at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Even without make-up and with uncombed damp hair, my wife never fails to take my breath away. She doesn't notice me standing at an angle behind her just a few feet away, so I lean against the door post with my arms crossed in front of my bare chest and just savor the sight of her. "What did I ever do to deserve such a woman?" I ask myself in amazement as the corners of my lips turn up to a grin.

As she rinses off the toothpaste in her mouth, I walk towards her from behind. She looks up and sees my reflection in the mirror, forcing a smile, just before she spews frothy liquid from her mouth into the sink. "Morning," she says to me dryly. I sense that she's tense and uptight about something. As she reaches for the facial moisturizer, I lean over and envelope my wife's slender body with my arms, my hands snaking around her waist and then rubbing circles on her hips as a gesture of sincere fondness.

Felicity:

I feel my husband's sturdy yet gentle arms wrap around my towel-dried body, and I sensed the pleasure that hugging and caressing me was giving him. As I massage my face with some moisturizer, he, in turn, massages my hips, and I momentarily get lost in thought.

Oliver has always been sweet, tender, and loving. I can't remember a day when he did not show his affection for me through some form of touch. And even on days when I was being somewhat difficult, he still manages to keep calm and stay cool. Not a day goes by that he doesn't say "I love you."

I wish I could say that about myself these days. Since I took over Walter's position in the Board and became head of IT at QC, the stress at work has increasingly been taking its toll on my health and on my sanity. I feel like I'm being pulled in different directions. The many demands at work and at the home front are driving me crazy, but I can't complain. Oliver expects me... scratch that. Oliver trusts me to do a good job, and I don't want to let him down. He keeps telling me how proud he is about everything I've accomplished so far, but I can't seem to bring myself to tell him that I'm burning out. I don't want to be cranky sometimes... okay, most of the time... I really don't. I miss my old self. If things don't change, I just might break.

My husband plants kisses on my neck and I feel his hands trailing from my hips to my waist to my stomach, and upwards to...

"Oliver!" I squeal in protest, squirming to pull away from his warm touch. "I know where this is headed, and it can't happen. Now is not a good time."

"Not a good time? Again?" my disappointed husband asks. "What's wrong? It's a Monday morning, Felicity."

"I need to get going. Early. Kendrick from Accounting buzzed me at 5:30 with an SOS. Can you believe it?! 5:30! Apparently their system crashed last night for some reason and they want me to personally fix it, because today is the 15th, and it's payday, and they're afraid that over a thousand disgruntled QC employees might storm their office if we can't get their programs up and running by the time the banks open at 9 a.m. Problem is, Emily's teacher texted me last Friday asking me to come over for a conference at 7 a.m. today before first period starts. I'm not sure what it's about. I doubt it's about her grades... hmm... coz we all know she has the brains of a fifth grader. I hope she's not causing trouble of some sort. You know how she can be sometimes. I was thinking... can you ask John to be the one to bring the kids to school today? Coz I have to be in QC before the Accounting people start coming in at 8:00. Oh, brother! See? I haven't even figured out how I'm supposed to be in two places at the same time this morning! This day hasn't even jumpstarted, and I'm already freaking out! And I'm babbling away again, aren't I?" I find myself clutching my damp blonde hair from the roots as I realized I had been verbalizing my anxious thoughts out loud.

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, Babe," Oliver interrupts my jabbering and turns me around to face him. He knows that calling me "baby" calms me down and lets me focus better on what he wants to say to me. He knows that it helps me put things into perspective and recognize that he's sincere, because it brings me back to the days when we were still dating and courting. "Honey" is his generic, everyday term of endearment. Recently, my first name has been reserved for when he is frustrated, upset, or when he is about to say something serious or important. Like now.

He holds me with both hands on my shoulders to keep me steady. "Felicity, have a quick breakfast, and then go, rescue Kendrick. The employees do need their wages today, and that includes us." He smirked. "I'll ask Diggle to drive you and Carrie to QC," he says to me calmly. "I'll take the kids to school and talk with Emily's teacher, and then we can talk about it later in the office. Okay?"

I nod twice in agreement and then bite my lower lip like a little child that has just been so lovingly reprimanded. I cup his stubbly jaw with my hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips as a token of thankfulness and appreciation. "You're my hero. I feel better already," I say to my wonderful husband.

Oliver:

Felicity woke Carrie up and got her ready for the day, and then they both went down to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before Diggle drove them off to the office.

As soon as they left, I begin to fill in my wife's shoes. The first impossible task is to get them all out of bed and into their respective bathrooms. Stephen is easy; he only needs a bribe. Three hours of gaming tonight after school and homework - even if I was well aware of their mother's rules about gadgets on a school night - quickly gets him on his feet, dashing for the shower faster than a speeding bullet. I'll just have to find some way to deal with my wife's ranting later.

Emily is a monster in the mornings. I choose plan A first. I sit on the edge of her bed and gently tap her shoulder. "Wake up, Ems," I whisper. "Wake up, Emily," I say. She stirs a bit and holds up two fingers without saying a word or opening her eyes. "Okay," I respond. "Two minutes."

I move on to the next bedroom, expecting to find Liv already on the toilet. "Good morning, Dad! I'm-"

"I know what you're doing, sweetheart," I cut her off with a chuckle."Just keep at it until you're done. Do you need me to wash you up after?"

"Nah... I can do it. I'm a big girl now," she says with a confident smile. Liv is the independent one. At four, she can handle herself better than most seven-year-olds. "Okay. Just call me if you need any help with the shower or with getting dressed." I leave her room and decide to check up on Emily.

"Ems?" I shake my head vigorously upon seeing her still buried beneath her comforter. "Come on, Emily. Please get up. I don't want to be late for a conference with your teacher at seven. Move your butt right now," I say with a slightly louder voice. In response, she holds up those two fingers again. Immediately drained of my usually abundant supply of patience, I switch to plan B. I walk briskly towards her and begin to pull her out of bed by the arms and legs. She thrashes and whines like a brat. "Get up right now, young lady, or I'll... I'll..." I suddenly run out of something to say. I'm not used to doing this in the mornings. This is my wife's turf. She has enough tricks and threats up her sleeve that always gets our daughter out of bed.

"Or you'll what?" Emily blurts out, now with eyes wide open. I can't quite read the expression in her eyes. I ask myself, "Is she challenging me, or is she simply teasing?" I panic. I realize that I don't have an honest-to-goodness answer. So I just answer, "Get up right now, or I'll make sure your mother-"

Emily cuts me off with a burst of laughter. And then she says with subtle sarcasm, "Mom is too busy to even bother to give me a hard time." With that, she gets up, out of her bed, and marches to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Speechless. That's how I felt right then and there. Emily's remark was loaded with meaning. With pent up emotions. "No wonder her teacher is asking for a meeting," I think to myself as I heave a sigh. I know I need to brace myself for what's in store, not just with the meeting in school, but more importantly with the talk that I urgently need to have later on with my wife, Emily's mother.

Setting all that aside and refocusing on my mission for the morning, I head for TJ's room, the last one down the hall. TJ is a classic sleepy head, but he's not a whiner in the mornings. Ruffling his blonde hair and whispering "Good morning" or "It's time to wake up, son," are all it takes to get him out of bed. He stretches out his limbs and yawns. He opens his slightly crusty eyes and says to me, "Good morning, Daddy." I help him up and we go straight to the bathroom. After I help him with his morning rituals and with a quick shower, I get him dressed up for school.

About thirty minutes later, Stephen, Emily, the twins, and I are already seated at the kitchen counter, hurriedly gobbling up five different kinds of cereals - each kind somehow representative of our unique personalities and preferences. I feel proud of myself as we all boarded the van with plenty of time to get to school before the scheduled conference at 7:00, relishing a sense of accomplishment that I had successfully managed a seemingly impossible task with just occasional glaring and minimal yelling. I have a victor's smile pasted on my face the entire trip to school.

But a thought crosses my mind as I drive. "A mother's job is not a joke. Felicity does this every morning... before she even tackles the challenges of helping me run a Fortune 500 company. I can't imagine myself doing what she does every single day." I decide to come up with a plan for her birthday on Friday - which is the day before our wedding anniversary - and I share it with the kids on our way to school. They gladly want in.

Felicity:

The entire elevator ride from the fifth floor (where the Accounting department is) to the top floor (where Oliver's and my offices are) took longer than I expected. But it's alright. I am alone in it, and God must have known that I desperately need the peace and quiet right now. "Stupid idiot," I mutter, and the very next second I regret saying it. "I'm sorry," I whisper a prayer.

But who can blame me? The entire payroll had been hanging in the balance in the early morning of payday... of all days. All because of a nasty virus that infiltrated the system, thanks to an irresponsible jerk who had secretly plugged in his personal external drive full of video games just so that he could realize his obsession for the Clash of Clans during coffee breaks. It's his fault I had to get up at 5:30 on a Monday morning. It's his fault I couldn't linger under the covers in my husband's embrace. It's his fault that I wasn't there for my children today. It's his fault I missed the conference with my daughter's teacher. It's his fault that I now have a splitting headache. Entirelyhisfault.

"I can't wait to get a nice big hug from Oliver," I say to myself. "That'll make me feel a whole lot better." The ding of the elevator brings me back from my internal murmurings.

I drag my feet down the hallway and into Oliver's office. I look beyond the glass walls and the first sight that greets me is that of a pretty, petite Chinese-looking young woman sitting behind the secretary's desk. "Oliver has a new secretary? I wonder what happened to Tom." I push the glass door and make my way into the receiving area of Oliver's office. I smile and greet the new girl with a simple nod and a soft "hello" as I turn towards the next glass door leading to my husband's main office.

The new girl stands and circles her desk anxiously. "Oh... uhm... excuse me, Ma'am. May I know your name and your purpose for seeing Mr. Queen today, please?" the seemingly smart Asian girl says to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I reply as I turn back to face her, somehow managing a friendly smile. "I believe we haven't been properly introdu-"

She cuts me off. "I'm afraid there's nothing in Mr. Queen's schedule about a visitor or a meeting, but I'm sure this is just a minor misunderstanding that can be fixed instantly. Would you care to have a seat while I straighten things out with him?"

My head tilts to the side as my eyes narrow, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. "She seems smart, but she's just as rude," I think to myself.

"Come again?" she asks.

My eyebrows lift as I lick my lips in embarrassment. I didn't realize I had said that out loud, though not loud enough for her to understand. I pretend not to hear her question. Instead, Iwalk towards her slowly and ask, "You're Miss...?"

"Fei. Shado Fei," she answers.

"Oh. Good morning, Ms. Fei. I would love to have seat but I'd prefer the one inside my husband's office, if you don't mind. I'm Felicity Queen. It's nice to meet you," I say to her, struggling to turn my fake smile into a more genuine one. That last sentence makes me feel a bit guilty for lying. My first impression of her isn't exactly a pleasant one.

Shado Fei gasps upon realizing who I was. It took her a few seconds to close her gaping mouth and speak. "Mrs. Queen! Oh! I'm so sorry. Soooo sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know who you were. It's my first day as Mr. Queen's new secretary. Please excuse my rude behavior."

I don't know whether or not I should believe her. I mean, who was she kidding? Pictures of my husband and me and our family are all over the tabloids and magazines that feast upon the private lives of Starling City's elite. How can she not be able to tell who I am? Was this all an act, or is she trying to make fun of me? Something in my gut tells me that something about this girl is off, but I choose to be civil.

"Well, now that we know who each other is, maybe we can just shake hands and start all over," I said, offering my right hand as a well-meaning gesture. "My apology too, for not properly introducing myself earlier. I just assumed that everyone is Starling knows who I am. Turns out I was wrong."

"Oh, I'm not from Starling, Mrs. Queen," Shado responds. "I've just moved here from Hongkong where I finished my studies in the secretarial arts. I'm the last one in my family to migrate to the U.S."

I think to myself, "So that explains the ignorance... but not the rudeness." Out loud I respond politely, "I see. Well then, welcome to the U.S. and welcome to Starling City, Ms. Fei. And... welcome to Queen Consolidated."

"Thank you, Mrs. Queen. And once again, I apologize for what happened earlier," she reiterates.

"Forgiven. No more worries," I reply. I figure I might as well learn to be nice to the girl whose face will be greeting me from now on every time I visit my husband's office. I decide to flash a friendly smile just before I walk away and step into my husband's office.

Oliver:

"Hi, Honey!" I greet my lovely wife. "I see you've met my new secretary, Shado."

Felicity:

The smile that took some will power for me to put on just a second ago quickly disappeared. In a split-second, it was replaced by a frown. "Yup... And I see you and your new secretary are on a first name basis?" I'm not sure if that was a question or a statement, but I meant to drive at something.I'm not exactly sure what yet,but my husband calling the new girl Shado instead of Ms. Fei like he'd always referred to previous male and female secretaries before her didn't quite please me.

Oliver:

I sense that there was something wrong about Felicity's response. The trouble down at the Accounting department must have brought out her dark side again. I just let out a laugh because I don't want to make a big deal out of something so petty. I push away from my desk, stand up, and walk towards my obviously cranky wife. I figure there's nothing on her mind that a warm hug and sweet kiss couldn't chase away.

"Is that jealousy I detect, Mrs. Queen?" I ask as I take both her hands and wrap her arms around my waist.

"What if it is?" Felicity replies with her own question, as she tries to free her hands and arms from my grasp.

"Then it can only mean that you miss your man just as much as he misses you," I say as I lower my head, my mouth aiming for her lusciously pink lips.

She pulls back and breaks away from me, and then tramps angrily into the conference room. I take it she doesn't want the new girl to see us arguing. About her.

I put both my hands inside the pockets of my pants and follow her into the empty conference room. "Honey, there's nothing to be jealous about," I assure my wife. "Ms. Fei has just started-"

"Oh... so now it's Ms. Fei, huh?"

"Felicity..." I'm starting to be irritated at my wife's foolish and childish behavior. "I don't even know her that well," I add.

"And what happens when you get to know her better?" she asks, pointing a finger at the silk tie on my chest.

"Felicity! What's wrong with you?" I say with a louder voice, exasperated.

This must startle my wife, because the angry expression on her face instantly changes. Her eyes begin to pool with tears and her lips quiver. She slumps down into the chair at the end of the conference table, as she buries her face into her hands.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she says, weeping. "I... I didn't... I didn't mean any of the things I said." She weeps some more, trying her best not to wail out loud and draw the attention of the other woman who had been the reason for her outburst.

I kneel down beside Felicity and start rubbing her back to comfort her. When she stops crying, I cup her face with my hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with my thumbs. My wife does not need me to reason with her right now. She doesn't need a logical explanation. She needs peace and quiet. Comfort. She needs me to love her. So I finish off what I had wanted to start a few minutes ago. I slide my hands from her face to her nape, and then cradle the back of her head as I lean forward and kiss her. I pour out into her soul as much affection as I could to make her feel better. I break the kiss for a second to let her get some air and let out a sob, and then I kiss her some more, combing through her soft blonde locks, which she had decided not to tie up into a ponytail today. When I pull back, I hold her firmly by her elbows and lift her up to her feet, and then we embrace.

"I love you," I whisper to her ear.

"I know," she whispers back.

"You're okay. We're okay," I say to her in a hushed voice.

Felicity pulls back from our embrace, but keeps her arms around my waist. "I don't think I'm okay. I'm just... so... tired," she says with her head hanging low. "I guess I'm too scared to admit it, but... I don't think I can go on this way."

"And you shouldn't. You need to take it easy," I tell her. "I won't allow you to break down. I won't have it. You're definitely more important than QC." My wife looks up to meet my gaze and plants a short, chaste kiss on my lips. And then I ask, "Do you need some time off from the office?"

"I'll think about it," she replies.

"Please. Think about it. I really think you need to slow down," I say.

And then I remember what had transpired in my meeting with Emily's teacher earlier today. Now is a good time to share it. It just might convince her to take the offer of her having some time off from work.

"Speaking of slowing down," I start, "you also might want to think about spending a little more time with Emily. This just might be the break you need to catch up with our daughter." I wink at her, hoping to get her to smile.

"Why?" she asks. "Something wrong at school? What did Mrs. Forrester say?"

"She's not causing trouble, if that's what you're asking," I answer. I swallow hard to prepare for what I'm going to say next. "She's... uhm... her grades are going down. Almost all of her subject teachers are noticing it, and they want our help to find out what's going on with her."

"What?" Felicity breaks away from our embrace, once again agitated. "I don't understand. She's a very bright girl."

"That's what we have to find out. But Mrs. Forrester is suggesting that we look into her relationship with her mother." I pause, carefully studying the expression on my wife's face, trying to decide whether or not I should continue with what I have to say.

"Go on," she says.

"Apparently, Emily's been doodling and sketching a lot lately. Not just during her free time in school, but also... while she's supposed to be listening to her teachers teach. Mrs. Forrester showed me some of her sketches, and... Honey, they're all sketches of you... you and her, when she was younger."

My wife turns and walks away, stopping a few feet away from me. Then she turns around and looks straight into my eyes with deep desperation, as if begging for help.

"Felicity... Baby, I think she misses you. I think it's possible she's behaving this way to get your attention. She must miss you spending time her. More importantly, I think she misses 'you and her,' you know, before there was a Queen family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The issues that begin to surface in our story may appear simple, but for those of you who are either married or parenting, or both (like me), you might agree with me that they're not as easy to deal with as they seem. The Queens will discover that for themselves. Hope you join us for the journey, and leave some encouraging comments along the way as well.


	3. Our Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity spends time with Emily. Emily talks about how special their mother is. Also, preparations for Thea's wedding are underway.

Emily:

Something's definitely different today. It's Tuesday, and just like any day, Mom drives all of us to school before she goes to work and drops off Carrie at the day care in QC. But today, she parks the van and gets down with the rest of us instead of just dropping us off the curb. As we go our separate ways - Stephen, walking towards the high school building, and I, heading off towards the elementary building - Mom calls out, "Emily!" I turn around with a puzzled look on my face.

"Yes, Mom?" I ask.

"I'm just going to take the twins to preschool class, and then Carrie and I will go to your class. I'd like to have a word with Mrs. Forrester," Mom replied.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask again, my heart pumping faster than it was just a couple of seconds ago.

"No. No worries," she answered, smiling. "I just have a favor I need to ask of her. You go on. I'll see you later."

Favor? I wonder what my mother could possibly want or need from my homeroom teacher. I know that my dad had a talk with Mrs. Forrester yesterday. Maybe this has something to do with that. "Uh-oh... Maybe Forrester showed him my sketches... the ones she had, time and again, confiscated. But why am I not in trouble? Mom doesn't look like she's angry or upset." I don't realize I had been deep in thought until I reach our classroom and am greeted by my friends.

Five minutes after first period began, Mom taps on the glass window of the door of our classroom. I gasp, my heart fluttering in nervousness as Mrs. Forrester turns and walks toward the door. She goes out and speaks with my mother outside. With the little that I can see through the glass window, I could see Mrs. Forrester's face. She was smiling and nodding. "That's a good sign," I think to myself. In less than a minute, my teacher opens the door and waves and motions for me to join them outside. I stand up and go.

"Emily, go grab your stuff, sweetie," Mrs. Forrester said to me as she placed her hand on my shoulder. "Your mother has asked that you take this day off from school. She says that she and you have some important business to take care of. Together." She said that last word with a smile and a wink.

My eyebrows shoot up as I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I bite my lower lip as I turn around to go back and get my things.

Carrie:

In the car, the three of us are quiet since we left the school. I'm sitting comfortably in my car seat behind my sister Emily. Mom looks at me in the mirror up front. "Carrie, darling," she begins to speak, "be a good girl at day care today. Emily and I need to go somewhere, but we'll be back with the twins to get you in time for lunch. Then the five of us can go have some Big Belly Burger. Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy!" I answer. "I want my strawberry milkshake!"

And then I hear my sister ask, "Where exactly are we going, Mom?"

"Somewhere I miss being with you at," Mom answers, turning to Emily with a sweet smile on her face.

Mom and Emily bring me to QC's day care center in the second floor. Mom signs the papers for the day and turns over my bag with all my stuff in it to the attendant. She told Ms. Linden, the boss at day care, that she'll be picking me up at 12:30 in time for lunch.

Emily:

A just few minutes of driving away from QC, I already have an idea where Mom is taking me - the park. Our favorite park. After parking and getting ourselves some churros with chocolate dips from our favorite food cart, we stroll down familiar paths until we reach Mom's park bench, the one with her name carved on it. We sit down and enjoy the fresh spring breeze... in silence.

Mom finishes her churrosfirst, so she gets to break the silence. "Don't you just miss this, Ems?"

My forehead creases as I answer her with another question, "You mean the churros, or the park?"

Mom chuckles. "Neither. I was referring to the two of us spending time together. I hear you've been making some pretty creative artwork about it."

"Oh... that," I reply, in between chewing and swallowing the last bite of the delicious Spanish treat. And then I continue to speak while licking some of the chocolate, sugar, and cinnamon left on my lips. "I guess Mrs. Forrester is a pretty good curator of second grader sketches. She'll probably make a good therapist, too, you know. I'm sure she's told Dad how my artwork is simply an outworking of what's going on inside my head and my heart. I take it you've bought into that theoretical analysis as well."

"You don't have to be so smug and sarcastic about it, Ems. Your teacher means well," Mom responds. She stretches out her arm and lays it on the back rest of the bench, just behind my neck and shoulders. After taking a deep breath, she says, "What I'd like to know is if she's right."

I respond with silence.

"Is she?" Mom asks.

"Is she what?" I ask.

"Right."

"Right about what?"

"About your drawings."

"What do you mean?"

"Emily, don't play dumb with me. We both know what I'm talking about. You know I'm not going to stop until you tell me what's going on that brilliant brain of yours. And I'd really like to find out what's in your heart. Really."

Again, I respond with silence. I don't even look at her.

My mom took my hand and squeezed it affectionately. "Whatever it is, you can say it. I promise I won't take it against you. You know you can tell me anything, right, Ems?"

I still respond with silence, but my eyes start to get misty.

"Look, sweetheart," Mom begins to explain, "I feel terrible that I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with you... especially since I've gotten so busy at work. It's been crazy at QC, and I know that's not an excuse but... But I've been trying... really hard. There's just... a million and one things to do every day! I've been giving my best at work because I don't want to let your father and his family down, only to realize that I've been failing at being a mother to you and Stephen and TJ and Liv and Carrie. I guess my best is not good en-"

"But I was your first!" I blurt out with all my pent up emotion. "It used to be just us. Life was so simple. Just you and me. How did things get so complicated?" The first tear escapes from my eye and falls down my reddened cheek.

Mom takes a deep breath, and then she says, "Oh Emily, please don't regret the life we now have. I know you miss the past when there was just the two of us. But hasn't life been kind to us? Don't you love it that you have a wonderful Dad, an older brother who loves you and protects you, and three adorable siblings who look up to you? If you're going to be angry at anything or anyone, be angry with me. I'm the one who's failing you, not them. Not life!"

Mom then places her extended hand on the side of my head and pulls me in to rest my head on her shoulder. We're both crying now. I find my arms moving to wrap my mother into a tight embrace. Oh, how I missed hugging my mom! We sob in each other's embrace for a few minutes, and then she starts to speak again.

"Emily, you are my firstborn, and that's something special that you and I have, something that your brothers and sisters will never get to have. Nothing can change that. I love you with all my heart, and I would gladly give my life if I have to, without a moment's hesitation, just for you to be happy and safe and cared for. But I also love Oliver, your father, with all my heart. I love TJ, Liv, and Carrie, and I've also learned to love Stephen in the same way. There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for all of you because... because my family is my life!"

"Then why do you work yourself to death?" I ask in sheer frustration. "You say we are your life, but you spend less and less time with us. You're not even thinking about yourself. You tire yourself too much! And over what? If something happens to you, who will take care of all of us? This life that you speak of? It's being sucked out of you little by little... if you haven't cared enough to notice it!"

Mom is the one who responds in silence this time. I look up to see her beautiful blue eyes, eyes that are wet with tears, eyes that stare blankly into the space in front of her. I wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if I'm getting through to her.

After about a minute, Mom's eyes slam shut, and the remaining tears drop to her cheeks and roll down to her chin. As soon as she opens her eyes, she looks down at me. And there it is. Her winsome smile is back. Her pink lips part, as she speaks, "Things will change starting today, Ems. I promise."

"I love you, Mom!" I say, squeezing her closer to me.

"I love you, too, sweetie. Very much. Don't you ever doubt that again!" she responds.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at the mall in time for the opening. We spend the entire morning shopping. Aunt Thea's wedding is coming up next weekend, and everyone in the Queen household is anxious and excited about it. We get ourselves new shoes, and I was thrilled that Mom - for the first time - let me have a pair of glittering silver heels instead of the usual flats and wedges she insists that I wear all the time. We buy hair accessories for ourselves and also for Liv and Carrie. The three of us are going to be flower girls, so we make sure that our hair pieces match the purple motif of the wedding and the elegant design of our dresses. Mom says she'll leave the boys' outfits, shoes, and accessories up to Dad. "Let him have a headache for once," she says, letting out a crisp laugh, as we walked out of the mall carrying several shopping bags in our hands.

Mom and I head back to the school to pick up TJ and Liv, and then we go back to QC to pick up Carrie from day care. All five of us enjoy a hearty lunch at Big Belly Burger.

As we are having some dessert, I look at my younger siblings one by one. TJ was so cute with a chocolate mustache decorating his handsome little face. He is intently listening to Liv babble about the new puzzles her teacher brought to class today, her mouth half full with marshmallows. Carrie, on the other hand, is keeping our mother busy. She sprinkles colorful sprinkles all over the table and smudges her face with strawberry syrup. As soon as Mom wipes off her face and fingers, she somehow manages to spill her milkshake all over her dress. I can't help but laugh at the riot that a handful of little people can create. "Poor Mom," I thought to myself as I chortled. "I think she needs my help." So I help out.

"Thanks, Ems. I really appreciate your help," my mom says as I finish wiping off TJ's mustache with baby wipes and wipe the remaining sprinkles off the table.

"No problem, Mom. I think I need to shape up, too. It's the least I can do if I want to help you keep your sanity intact," I remark with a twinkle in my eye. Mom smiles and sighs, and then mouths a soundless "I love you."

Thirty minutes later, we pull over and park in front of the couturier's shop in downtown Starling. As Mom pushes the car door open, I ask with excitement, "So our wedding outfits are ready for fitting?"

"Yup! They called yesterday and asked if we could come in for a fitting session today. They said they're already behind schedule, so it's important that we fit ours as soon as possible. It appears your Aunt Thea is not the only one getting married next weekend, and they have their hands full," Mom explained. "I thought this is a very good excuse to get you out of school today, and Mrs. Forrester couldn't agree more."

Liv:

Mom and Emily come out of the dressing rooms in their purple gowns. And oh, they look absolutely stunning! I can't wait for my turn to fit!

Aunt Thea couldn't have picked a better time to get married to Uncle Roy. Based on my calculations, if she's eight years younger than my dad, then she's twenty-seven now. From what I've heard, that's a pretty good age to get married and start having children. If she gets pregnant a few months after the wedding, she'd be giving birth to her first child at around this time next year. And if they keep having babies every two years, they could have four kids by the time they reach my dad's current age. I'm rambling again, aren't I? I'm sorry. That's just how my brain works.

I'm just so excited to have cousins soon! I know there are Dana and Andy. They're like cousins to us because the Queen and Diggle families are really close. But they're not real cousins, you know? We can't have cousins from my mother's side of the family coz she has no siblings, and we don't have fake cousins with Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara yet, so... I'm really hoping Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy can fast track the baby-making part and give us more playmates.

Aunt Thea also couldn't have picked a better date for their wedding. The wedding is set just two days after my parents' wedding anniversary. How do I know? I make it a point to look at my mom's wall calendar at home. Every year birthdays and anniversaries are crossed out from January to December. So I know that Mom and Dad got married one week after her birthday in April. And what a wonderful time of the year for a wedding! In spring the flowers are in bloom and the weather is just right. Aunt Thea says she remembers all the advantages of having a garden wedding in spring at the Queen estate and decided that another Queen wedding in April wouldn't hurt. The only difference is that she's picked the Japanese Garden - instead of the Rose Garden that my mom had picked for their wedding - as the venue to match the Zen theme of her wedding.

"Livvy, dear, could you please, please stop talking for a while and let me help you fit your dress?!" Mom tells me, her voice laced with exasperation. I then realize that I had just said all that out loud. I begin to pout in embarrassment.

"Come on, Liv. Try not to be a pain. You're giving Mom a hard time," TJ says. "Look at Carrie. She's staying still for Emily," he continues to say.

"All right, all right. I'll hold my breath and shut up for a minute," I answer. The built-in stopwatch in my head started the count to sixty seconds. I think I'd die of boredom by the time I get to forty-five, but I know my mother would be fuming mad if I even say another word, so I let my brain literally command my mouth to stay shut. It takes all of my energy to do that.

Emily:

As soon as we are done fitting, we thank all the attendants and the owner of the shop. They promise to have our gowns ready by Monday. The five of us walk back to the car to head home to the Queen mansion. On our way home, Mom's phone rings and she asks me to answer the call because she's driving.

I see our dad's face and name on the screen. "Hi, Dad!" I greet him happily. "We just finished fitting our dresses at the shop. We're heading home now... Okay... Sure. See you soon. Bye!"

"What did your dad say?" Mom asks as soon as I hung up.

"Nothing much. He said that he and Stephen are already home, waiting for us, and that we should take care coming home," I reply. What I said wasn't exactly a lie. He did say those things. But I had to leave out the part about the top secret meeting he wanted to have with us kids before dinner in the den while Aunt Thea keeps Mom busy about wedding details in the study.

It's been a tiring day for me, yes, but I won't exchange it for anything because it's a day well spent with the best mother in the world - my Mom. Our Mom. I understand now that although I now have to share her with four other sometimes-detestable but more-often-delightful siblings, her love for me has never diminished. She gives of herself to each of us one hundred percent. Nothing less. That's what a mother is all about, and I have to make sure my siblings understand that as we plan Mom's birthday surprise later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like the mother-daughter fluff?  
> I loved writing Liv's and Carrie's parts. Unfortunately, Carrie can't really say much at two years old.


	4. Friday Frenzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and the kids set up a grand surprise birthday treat for Felicity, but something happens that totally takes them both by surprise. Pleasantly or unpleasantly?

Stephen:

In the last three days since our top secret meeting with Dad about Mom's surprise birthday party, everyone in the Queen household has been busy implementing covert operations. Dad knew he needed all the help he can get. He had already gotten Aunt Thea on board, having convinced her that keeping Mom busy by asking for her help with wedding preparations would be a win-win situation for them. Lucia is already planning the menu with Aunt Lyla, and Uncle John will be helping them sneak the groceries from the supermarket into the mansion tonight without our mom ever detecting it. The birthday cake was Uncle Roy's assignment. (Dad decided that he didn't want to risk Uncle Roy messing things up, so the easiest job in our top secret mission was assigned to him.) My siblings and I are in-charge of the personalized greeting cards, arranging the Skype greetings by Grandma and Walter from London, and the birthday banner. And the florist? Dad and Uncle Tommy are working on that together, meticulously making sure that the set-up is going to be irresistibly romantic. Dad has really been excited, and it's great to see him bubbling with enthusiasm just to show the love of his life how much she means to him... and to all of us.

After the day out with Emily, Mom told our dad that she was accepting his offer of taking a few days off to relax and spend more time with us. She did take some time to relax. She and Aunt Thea had gone shopping and spent an entire afternoon at a five-star hotel spa on Day One. She drove to and from Central City to have lunch with Aunt Sara in a café near the FBI headquarters where she worked on Day Two. In the evenings, she spent time us, helping us with homework and then watching re-runs of The Flash season 1 after dinner.

It seems to me that despite her genius, Mom has absolutely no clue whatsoever about everything that's going on under her nose. Dad made sure of it. He made sure there were no evidences, no clues of our clandestine undertaking lying around anywhere in the mansion or in the cars. Emily and I have been coaching the little ones, making sure they won't slip up. We even hatched a mischievous plan, with Dad as our accomplice, as to how Mom's special day is going to begin. She wouldn't know what hit her! I can't wait to see the look on her face once we start setting our plan in motion.

And so, there's today. Friday. It's Mom's special day!

For starters, not one of us set our alarms last night. So now, at 6:45 a.m. - exactly 15 minutes after we're supposed to wake up every day for school - I wake up to our mom's yelling. I can immediately tell how upset she already is at everybody.

"Get up, you guys!" she hollers in the hallway. "You're all going to be late!" Her loud voice matches the sound of her footsteps, hurrying and scurrying from room to room. "Emily Queen! Get out of that bed right now, young lady!" I hear a loud thud, followed by heavy footsteps. I can't help but imagine our mom dragging my sister from the bed to the bathroom. "You have ten minutes to get ready!" Mom's voice echoes throughout the hallway as she slams Emily's bathroom door shut. As Mom rushes out of Emily's room to get back to the twins and attend to Carrie, she cries at the top of her lungs, "Oliverrrrr! Help!"

I try to keep myself from laughing, but I can't. I bury my head under a pillow and laugh so hard, even harder when I hear my dad answer with a trembling voice that was higher in pitch than usual, "I'm coming, Honey!" My stomach begins to tense up so I decide to give it up and head to the bathroom. Good thing I made it there before Mom appears in my doorway and yells, "Stephen?!" But before she gets to say anything more, I cut her off. "I'll be downstairs in seven minutes tops," I say to her, rubbing my eyes, pretending I had just awakened. And then I close the door and blow out some air, relieved that she didn't catch me laughing just moments ago.

All five of us are quiet in the van. Even Liv isn't talking, and for her, this is a milestone. Only Felicity Smoak Queen gets to talk. And talk she does.

"We are running ten minutes late! You are going to miss flag retreat. Didn't anyone set an alarm? I've taught you guys time and again how to set your alarms for 6:30. We've been through this drill countless times! What were the four of you thinking? What kind of example are you setting for Carrie? Urgh!" she growls. Mom touches her sweaty forehead with one hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel. A minute later, she speaks again, but with a much calmer voice. "I'm disappointed... No. I'm utterly disappointed in the four of you, especially you, Stephen and Emily, because both of you should know better." And then she mutters more softly, perhaps not wanting any of us to hear her, "I can't believe this is happening to me... today of all days." I look at the rear view mirror and see a tear fall from the corner of her eye, which she wipes away with the back of her hand very swiftly.

I can understand how sad and upset she must be feeling. It isn't just about us running late for school. It's also because not one of us has greeted her "Happy Birthday" yet since she woke up. Knowing Felicity, she's been expecting it. But it's part of our grand plan. I can't afford to buckle and abandon the mission just because our wonderful mother is at the brink of crying. I need to be strong and firm. I turn my head to look out the window. Maybe the scenery will help get my mind off this disconcerting situation.

TJ:

If I could get my hands on a pencil and paper right now, I'd draw my mother's face and show how upset she is. Her eyes aren't sparkling like they usually do. There's a crease between her eyebrows, and she is chewing on her lower lip. Mom is so pretty and sweet, and it hurts me to see her so sad and angry at the same time. Why did I agree to this plan? It's mean and nasty and... I don't like how things are turning out.

"Mom?" I suddenly find myself mumbling.

"Yes, TJ?" my mom responds as she turns to look at me for a second. "What is it?"

"I... I just want to tell you-"

"That we're sorry," Emily cuts me off before I could say "I love you" and "Happy Birthday." Emily glares at me, but Mom doesn't notice it because she can't see Emily from her mirror.

"Yeah," Liv and Stephen join in. "We're really sorry, Mom," Liv goes on to say, and then Stephen adds, "It won't happen again. Promise."

"It better not!" Mom retorts. "Because the next time we run late for school, the persons responsible will be grounded for a month!"

"Copy that," my brother and sisters say in chorus.

Oliver:

I get a text message from Stephen, telling me that Felicity has just dropped them off at school and was on her way back to the house. That's my cue. I send a text message to Thea: "Green light." She knows what to do.

Felicity:

I'm driving home when I hear my phone buzz. I pull over to the side of the road and pick up the call. The caller ID says it's my sister-in-law Thea. I wonder what on earth she'd be calling about. "Maybe it's about more wedding stuff," I say to myself.

"Hello? What's up, Thea?"

"Hi! I'm sorry to call you this early, but I really need your help."

"Is everything okay with wedding preps?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks to you, things are going well as planned. I need your help with something else. My laptop crashed. What a bummer! Unfortunately for me, I have a presentation for HRD at 10:30 today, so I was hoping you could help me recover files on my hard drive. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my presentation is still intact and recoverable. So, can you?"

With a bit of hesitation, I cleared my throat and replied, "Well, I'm supposed to be on leave until today, but... I guess you know very well I can't say no to my favorite sister-in-law. I'll meet you at your office in twenty minutes."

"Great! See, that's why you're my favorite sister-in-law, too."

"That's because we're each other's only sister-in-law. Seriously, I'd do it because I love you," I say to her with a faint smile on my face. "Anything else?" I ask, wishing that she remembers it's my birthday. Thea never forgets.

"Oh yes!" she replies. And for a moment I feel like there's a chance I can feel a lot better than how upset and frustrated I've been feeling since I woke up this morning. "May I join you for lunch later at home? I'd like to go over some details of my wedding vow. I know you've written one before, so I'd appreciate some coaching. If that's all right with you?"

I let out a deep sigh, pulling my phone away from my face so Thea won't hear how frustrated I was. "Sure," I reply after taking a deep breath. "Let's see what we can come up with."

After saying our goodbyes, I drive off to Queen Consolidated, feeling more disappointed than ever. I think to myself, "Why is it that everybody thinks I have all the answers to their life's problems? For once, can't anybody think about what would make me happy?" I struggle to fight off the tears and the emotions that were welling up inside me. I turn on the radio and tune in to the gospel station. My favorite "His Eye is On the Sparrow" is playing; the music and the words soothe my weary and downcast heart. Somehow it makes me feel a little bit better such that by the time I get to QC, I could already manage a genuine smile.

About twenty minutes later, I'm with Thea at her office in the fourth floor where the Human Resource Development section of QC is found. It's been five years since Thea became head of HRD, and she's been doing a terrific job. Her outgoing personality is an asset to the department, and so is her candidness and toughness. No one fools around under her watch. She monitors QC's employees so well, especially the managers, supervisors, and executives. Her father would have been so proud of her, just as Moira and Oliver are.

After running a virus scan, I help Thea recover important files from her hard drive and reformat her laptop. Everything takes only an hour, but I can't quite leave yet because Thea starts up a conversation about how I think her and Roy's honeymoon should go. I share with her just about every practical tip I could think of, without divulging too much of the private stuff that Oliver and I have enjoyed doing, and the conversation takes twice as much time (or more) as I spent fixing her laptop. I glance at my watch, itching to go home and get a breather from the Friday morning frenzy.

"Hey, didn't you say your presentation is at 10:30? You barely have five minutes to get ready," I remind Thea.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot," she says, somewhat absentmindedly. "Thanks for reminding me. I'll see you later for lunch?" Thea asks as she hurriedly collects her laptop and her things.

"Yeah, sure," I reply.

"And thanks again for helping with my technological catastrophe," Thea says as she runs off and leaves her office. "Bye!"

"Bye!" I call out.

As I sat in Thea's office alone, I decide to call Oliver and find out where he is. By now he must be in his office, so I might as well pay him a visit before heading home. I miss him already. He hasn't called to check in on me yet like he's done the past few days. Worse, he hasn't greeted me, too. "How could my own husband forget that it's my birthday today?" I ask myself. "Maybe he thinks I'm too upset at what happened with the kids this morning that he wants to give me some space."

"Hi, Honey!" I say to my husband over the phone.

"Oh, hi! Where are you?" Oliver asks.

"I'm in Thea's office. She asked me to come in and do her favor. Her laptop crashed and she needed it for a presentation this morning, but everything's okay now. Are you in your office?"

"Uhm... no. Not yet," he replies.

"Well, where are you? I thought I'd drop by. I could sure use a hug," I say, hoping my husband could read my mind right now and just cradle me in his warm, loving arms. That will surely make me feel a lot better.

"I... I'm with Tommy at the lobby. We had coffee earlier. He wanted to talk to me about something. I'll just send him off and then I'll come up. I'll meet you in my office in about ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Don't take too long. Anything else?" I ask him, hoping he'd remember my special day.

"Nah, just that... I love you so much," he replies.

"I love you, too," I echo back as I hung up. I heave a sigh of disappointment, and then walk out of Thea's office.

I stepped out of our private elevator on the top floor of the QC building where Oliver's and my offices are. Actually, the top floor has only these two offices aside from the two conference rooms, the audio-visual room, a library, and the mini museum of Queen Consolidated that Moira had inaugurated in memory of her husband before she and Walter were married. Even though I am the head of the IT department, Oliver insisted that my office be on the same floor as his. (I only did rounds in the IT department in the mornings usually, but I held office on the top floor as President of the Board of QC.) Oliver not only wanted us to be able to communicate easily about the affairs of the company; he also wanted to keep me close. Literally. And I liked that as much as he did. In the midst of the daily grind, we very much anticipated coffee breaks and lunch breaks to be together, if there were no scheduled meetings and conferences, of course. But that was before I got to be so busy.

I looked to my right and straightaway was greeted by a smiling Ms. Fei, waving her hand from more than thirty feet away. I waved my hand to acknowledge her politely. I'm about to walk towards her when I change my mind. I figure since Oliver wouldn't be up here in five more minutes or so, it would be good to check in on my secretary first and see how things have been going in the past few days that I've been on leave. So I turned to my left, walking down the hallway to the other end of the floor towards my office.

Immediately I notice that my secretary isn't where she's supposed to be. "She rarely calls in sick, and she didn't file for a leave of absence either. That's odd," I think to myself. The office was also a bit dark. Lights are still out and the blinds in the receiving area haven't been drawn yet.

As I open the door separating the receiving area from my main office, I gasp... as I took in a most unexpected yet thrilling scene. The blinds haven't been drawn yet, and there's hardly any sunlight coming in from outside, but the room was magnificently lit up by the glow of numerous white candles of different shapes and sizes. White rose petals were scattered all over the place. Bouquets of different varieties of roses were creatively placed on the tables, the shelves, and the floor... some deep red, some bright red, others pink, peach, yellow, and white. Some are simply laid out on tables in decorative materials, while others were beautifully arranged in crystal vases of different designs and patterns. It is truly a lovely, over-the-top romantic sight!

I take a deep breath with eyes closed and savor the sweet scent that filled the room. I keep my eyes closed for a while longer as I listen to background piano music of my favorite David Osborne playing Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are," the memory of my first date with Oliver coming back so vividly in my mind as the corners of my lips turn up into a wide smile.

I walk to my desk and find several giant greeting cards neatly arranged on it. There is a light blue one with a very accurate drawing of me on the cover; I'm positive that it is from my little artist TJ. There's an orange card with lots of stickers of computers, gadgets, and other pieces of technology on the cover; it's obviously made by Liv. The pink card with tiny finger painting designs surely comes from Carrie. Bless her heart! The purple card with musical notes and the chorus of "His Eye is On the Sparrow" printed on the cover comes from Emily, and the royal blue card decorated with different kinds of sports and athletic stuff is definitely from Stephen. I pick up this blue card and open it. The note reads:

"Dear Mom, a little over five years ago, my dad and I met you and Emily in a rather interesting way. Thanks to a simple basketball that bounced from our hands to your hearts. After my mom died, I never thought I would ever feel the love and care of a mother again. Until I met you. There was just something about you that, not only made my dad fall head-over-heels in-love, but also made me 100% sure that you were going to be the perfect mom for me. Today, I can say that I couldn't have been more right. I love you, Mom. And I'm proud to be your son. You have lit up my dad's life and mine, just like the candles you see in this room. Don't ever change. Love, Stephen."

By the time I finish reading the royal blue card, I am in tears. Tears of joy and fulfillment. One of those tears falls on a white envelope decorated with pressed rose petals. I pick it up and open it. There's a note scribbled in Oliver's handwriting that reads:

"Happy Birthday, Babe! And advanced Happy Anniversary to my beautiful, brilliant wife! I've been dreaming of something like this recently. Would you care to join me in another romantic get-away? Love, Oliver." I remove the paper clip attaching the note to what looked like brochures and... oh my...

One of my hands instinctively moves to cover my gaping mouth. My other hand is holding two round trip airline tickets to the Philippines and brochures of the tropical islands of Palawan, home to white sand beaches, enchanting island coves, and exotic wildlife. "Oh, Oliver..." I whisper. "How could I have doubted my husband? He didn't forget!" My heart floods with rapture and delight and joy and pleasure.

I dash out of my office, clutching my husband's most thoughtful gift with my right hand, and scurried down the hallway in my heels towards his office, hoping that he's already there. As I pass by the elevators, I hear something that makes me stop dead in my tracks. Laughter. Giggles. I stand in front of our private elevator waiting for the doors to open.

Ding! The elevator doors part, revealing CEO Oliver Queen (my husband) alone with Helena Bertinelli (my secretary). She is leaning into him, holding on to his scarlet necktie. He is holding onto her shoulders with a tight grip.

"What...?" I begin to speak but I can't get any more words out. My chest feels like it's ripping apart, and my stomach is churning inside me that I feel like I was about to throw up. I held back a sob and covered my mouth with the back of my left hand as tears began to fall from my eyes. Tears of anger and hurt. Before my husband could step out of the elevator, I threw everything I had in my right hand at him, ran back to my office, and locked myself inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how did you like the surprise that Oliver and the kids prepared? Please don't hate me for spoiling it. It's all part of the rising action in the plot. What do you think happens next? How will Felicity will take this? What do you think really happened in that elevator?


	5. Cold War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's birthday surprise is ruined. Oliver offers a reasonable explanation. But the cold war continues.

Liv:

This surprise birthday party has gotten me all wound up! We've been planning this for days, and I'm almost out of self-control. It's been really hard to keep my mouth shut so that I won't blurt out anything in front of our mother that would give our secret away. Stephen and Emily have been watching me like predators ready to snap at their prey, should I even make the slightest mistake of babbling our surprise away. That's something they're not worried about with TJ and Carrie. Oh! I can't wait for Mom and Dad to get here!

Everything's ready. The birthday banner that my brothers and sisters and I had been working on these past two days is already hanging across the entire length of the wooden banister at the top end of the grand staircase in the foyer of our mansion. We're quite proud of it! The poster paints made it colorful, and the glitters we used makes the banner look all sparkly and bright. At the end of the greeting "Happy Birthday, Mom!" is a really cool drawing of our mom that my brother TJ worked on enthusiastically. It shows our mom with her glasses on, her hair tied up in her classic ponytail, her beautiful blue eyes, and her pretty pink lips that curled upwards at the corners to form a winsome smile. There are balloons everywhere – in the foyer, in the living room, and in the dining room. The aroma coming from the kitchen (where Lucia is busy with the finishing touches of what promises to be a delicious meal) is making my mouth water and my stomach growl, reminding me that it's just about time for lunch. "Oh, where are Mom and Dad?" I think to myself. "I'm hungry!"

TJ:

Everybody's here and we are all excited. Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy are in a corner of the living room, arguing about some things for the upcoming wedding rehearsal and the dinner after. My Aunt Thea is obviously upset about something. Uncle Roy is having a hard time getting her to calm down. He has his arms wrapped around her from behind, and he's swaying her from side to side. He's whispering sweet nothings into her ear, but she is squirming, trying to get away from him. They're funny, and watching them like that makes me chuckle.

Uncle John and Aunt Lyla came about half an hour ago, just about the same time that Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara arrived. Right now they're having a lively chat over coffee in the living room. Uncle John and Aunt Lyla brought along Dana and Andy so that they could play with us. Liv and I like playing with Andy in the playroom, but Emily prefers hanging out with Dana because they're about the same age, Emily just over a year older. Even our step-brother Connor is here with his parents Aunt Sandra and Uncle Glen Holland; they drove all the way from Central City. I think it's great that the parents managed to have all of us kids excused from school today just to celebrate our mom's thirtieth birthday.

Carrie:

I hear a knock on the door. Aunt Thea breaks away from Uncle Roy's hug to get it. The door opens, and oh! "Papa Lance! Papa Lance!" I yell. I run to our favorite policeman and jump into his open arms.

"Hey there, Carrie-my-favorite-Cruiser-Queen! How'r you doin? You're getting taller I see," he says. He squeezes me into a bear hug, and I love it! I give him a peck on the cheek.

Stephen:

"I see the whole gang is here. Where's Harper?" my grandpa asks Aunt Thea.

"Right over there," Aunt Thea replies, pointing to her fiancée. Uncle Roy is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, clearly agitated about something. I could tell he isn't too happy about seeing my grandfather, who just recently became his boss.

You see, after Mom and Dad's wedding, and when he and Aunt Thea had become a couple, Uncle Roy entered the police academy after Grandpa had convinced him that protecting innocent people and keeping our city safe is a really noble profession. The training had been tough on him at first, especially the part about discipline and following orders of those in authority, but eventually he came around. The physical aspect of the training wasn't that much of a challenge. Uncle Roy had always been physical fit and agile. He had some martial arts training and had been part of the varsity wrestling team in high school, so he already knew the basics of self-defense and hand-to-hand combat by the time his training at the academy commenced.

He had to learn how to shoot a gun, though, and that was perhaps the toughest challenge he faced. Sure, he could fire a pistol. Hitting the target was his problem. The guys at the precinct tease him constantly, saying that he almost didn't become a cop because he has a terribly flawed aim. Aunt Thea says he spends much of his free time at the shooting range doing target practice. I guess this is why Grandpa is a bit hard on him. The veteran cop wanted to keep an eye on the rookie, mentoring him to be a better cop so that he doesn't mess up and put his own life and the life of his partner on the line when they're out on the streets chasing after the bad guys. That's why after his first year as a cop, Grandpa worked out his transfer to his precinct. Grandpa somehow sees something in him that will make him a good police officer. Grandpa says Uncle Roy has naturally keen cop instincts, which would make him an excellent detective, so he wanted to guide the younger man and groom him for promotion some day.

Unfortunately, Uncle Roy doesn't see that my grandpa means well. The mere sight of their precinct's captain in the same room he is in keeps him on edge.

"Harper!" Grandpa calls out with a louder voice than usual, as he walks briskly towards Uncle Roy.

"Sir," Uncle Roy replies as he straightens up to acknowledge his superior.

"Your partner says you're off duty? I didn't see you clock out."

"Yes, sir. I... I was on duty all night. Is there... anything you... need from me?"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you and your partner about going undercover in the Glades. We've been getting anonymous tips about some illegal gambling activity there."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Aunt Thea butts in, wearing a worried look on her face.

"Thea, everything a cop does out there is dangerous. We live and breathe danger every day," Grandpa answers. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on this one. Make sure he's not in over his head," Grandpa adds, winking at her.

Uncle Roy pulls Aunt Thea closer to him. "It's okay, Babe. It's part of the job. I promise to be careful and make sure to get home to you every night in one piece," he says to her reassuringly.

"You better!" Aunt Thea says, her eyes narrowing as she looks at him. And then she turns to my grandfather and says, "And I'm counting on you, Captain Lance, to make sure he makes good on that promise. I haven't even walked down the aisle yet, and I certainly don't intend to make it to the Guinness Book of World Records as the youngest cop's widow anytime soon." She puts on a pouting face and walks away to join the other guests in the living room.

Emily:

Just as Aunt Thea walks away from their conversation, we hear Dad's car pull over in the driveway just outside the front door.

"Hey, everybody! They're here!" I call out, trying so hard to keep myself from shouting.

Adults and kids scurry to the foyer and take their positions, putting on colorful party hats. Uncle John, Uncle Tommy, Stephen, and I were ready with the party poppers. We all know the cue, and we were holding our breaths, waiting for the birthday girl to walk through the door.

The front door opens...

"Surprise!"

It's Dad. Just Dad. A very, very sad Dad.

"She's not coming," is all he could say.

My heart sinks. And judging from the look on the faces of family and friends, their hearts are sinking, too. All the way down. It was as if our emotions had sky-rocketed one second and then exploded in the next, and all the debris are plummeting down to the ground just as fast.

"What happened, Dad? Where's Mom?" I ask. My voice almost croaks as I try to keep myself from crying.

My dad takes a few sluggish steps forward, away from the door. His head hangs low as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "She's not coming," he repeats, shaking his head.

"What do you want us to do, Oliver?" Uncle John asks.

When Dad doesn't answer, Aunt Lyla steps in. "All right, ladies and kids. Why don't we proceed to the dining room for lunch while the big boys have a talk?" It isn't really a question or a suggestion. It is clearly a command. She guided the little ones to the dining room with the help of Aunts Thea, Sara, and Sandra.

"I'm joining you for lunch. I'm too old to have to deal with stuff like that, and I do have to be back at the precinct by the time lunch break is over," Papa Lance says.

"I'm with you, too," Uncle Roy remarks. "I'm too young to have to deal with stuff like that." He shrugs his shoulders and snorts, earning him a glare and an elbow to his side from Aunt Thea.

As we leave the foyer with the two men, our aunts, and the Holland couple, I hear my brother Stephen say, "Dad, may I stay?" I look back just in time to see our dad nod his head in approval.

Stephen:

I follow the guys into the living room. I take a seat on the sofa beside Uncle Tommy. Dad and Uncle John prefer to stand.

"What did you do this time?" Uncle Tommy asks. It sounds like he's teasing, but I sense he seriously means business.

My dad is quiet for a while. He does this thing when he's tense or anxious, rubbing his thumbs against his fingers that are balled into fists. And then he speaks softly with a somber tone, "It was a big misunderstanding. She... I... She thinks there's something going on between me and her secretary, Helena Bertinelli." He takes a deep breath through his nose and then blows out air through his mouth, as if relieved that he's finally able to verbalize something he's been holding back for some time.

"Why would she think that?" Uncle Tommy asks again.

"I was alone in the elevator with Helena. When the elevator reached our floor and the doors opened, Felicity was right in front of us and..."

"Uh-huh... And what did she see?" Uncle Tommy asks a third time.

"Me holding on to Helena's shoulders and Helena grabbing my necktie," Dad replies disgracefully. I could see guilt in his eyes, and this troubles me a bit.

"And how did that happen?" Uncle Tommy asks a fourth time.

"After you and I sent off the florist at QC's lobby, you left to meet Sara and come here, remember? I had just gotten off the phone with Felicity. I told her to meet me at my office in ten minutes because I didn't want her walking into her office yet without me. I headed towards our private elevator and pressed the up button. As the elevator doors opened, Helena happened to pass by. She said she needed to get back to the office before Felicity walks into our surprise and asked if I could give her a lift. I didn't see any harm in it then, and I thought it would be to my advantage if she could give me a heads up when Felicity arrives on the top floor. So I let her in," Dad explains.

"Let me guess," Uncle John begins to speak after being quiet for some time. "It took you only a few seconds before you realized you made a big mistake."

"You could say that," Dad replies. "We had just passed the fifth floor, and Helena started flirting with me. She began by saying that she admired what I had done for my wife's birthday, wondering when a man just like me would walk into her life. She said that she found romantic married men quite attractive, and then she confessed that she's been infatuated with me ever since she started working for my wife."

"And that didn't send shivers down your spine?!" Uncle Tommy snaps at my dad. "Man, I know how much restraint you've been able to develop through the years since our college days. But that was an emergency alert. You should have pressed the button right then and there and asked her to step out. And if she didn't want to, you should have."

"I know... But I..." my dad replies, his face and voice betraying the guilt and shame he feels inside.

"Don't you and Felicity have this understanding that neither of you should be seen alone with anyone anywhere? Whatever happened to that?" Uncle John reminds him.

"It was a mistake. A singular indiscretion-"

Uncle John cuts him off, "That cost you your wife's trust."

"And ruined our supposedly perfect surprise," Uncle Tommy adds with disappointment. He stands up, shaking his head, and walks over to give my dad a pat on the back. "You'll figure something out. You have a wonderful wife. I'm sure if you give her some space and reason with her later, she'll forgive you. Eventually." He walks out of the living room saying, "I'm having lunch."

Uncle John stays behind with Dad and me.

"Dad, how come you let Ms. Bertinelli grab your tie? Didn't you see that coming?" I ask.

"Son, today I learned a very important lesson. It's a lesson you need to learn as you're growing up to become a young man," my dad begins to explain as he walks over to me and sits down. "Never. Let. Your. Guard. Down. Ever."

My dad sighs and then continues to speak, "I made the mistake of not walking away. I should have gotten out of the elevator when I still could. But I just turned my back at her, waiting for the lift to take us to the top floor. Before I knew it, she had closed the gap between us, pulled my arm and stood in front of me, grabbing me by my tie. She was leaning closer to me, so I gripped her shoulders to try to push her away. That's when the doors opened and your Mom..." Dad took another deep breath and blew the air out in frustration.

"Oh, Dad..." I say. "Have you explained everything to Mom? Said you're sorry, at least? I'm sure she'd understand."

"Nope. She wouldn't let me. She locked herself in her office and wouldn't come out. I begged her repeatedly to let me in so I could explain. But... all she said was 'Leave me alone.' So... I did. I left and came here." Dad taps my knee and says, "I'm so sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise we had planned."

"I can't say it's all right, Dad, coz you really blew it this time. But I forgive you. I think I can talk to Emily and the rest. They'll get over it... after sulking for a while." I smile to give my dad a boost of encouragement. "I'll just tell them that you and Mom had a big fight, but that you'll sort things out eventually. Like you always do."

"Thanks, buddy. I know I can count on you," Dad answers. "Now, go on and join the others for lunch."

I stand up and leave the living room. I hear Uncle John behind me saying to my dad in a hush, "I don't know, Oliver, but I think your son is acting more like a man today than you were this morning."

Felicity:

It's past 10:00 when I get home. I come home late on purpose, having eaten dinner at Big Belly's alone I don't want to have to explain to the children that their dad and I had had a big fight – on my birthday, to make matters worse. I'm still not up to it. I know that Oliver would be waiting up for me, making sure I'm home safe. He hadn't texted or called me since he left QC, and I understood that to mean that he was giving me the space I needed. But truth be told, I'm not about ready to talk with him. Not just yet.

I had missed lunch because I didn't have much of an appetite after what had happened. After Oliver left me alone, I stayed in my office until I had stopped crying and regained my composure. As for my secretary, I just sent her a text telling her to take the rest of the day off. When I was sure my eyes weren't puffy and swollen anymore, I grabbed my purse to leave the office. Helena was nowhere in sight when I left.

I headed to the park. I sat alone on my bench, musing... thinking through the events that happened today, as well as everything that's been happening in the last few weeks and months. I reached a conclusion: that I am not happy with how my life is turning out right now. But as I stood up to leave when the sun had begun to set, I caught a glimpse of the carving on the wooden slat of the back rest of the bench: Felicity Smoak Queen.

I then remembered that Oliver had carved it when we had our first big fight as a couple more than five years ago. When we returned from our honeymoon after our wedding, Oliver had gone back to the park and added my new surname to his original work, carving out a heart shape around my complete name. It's coincidental that I was looking at the same carving now that we've just had what is probably the biggest fight we've ever had as a married couple.

I know deep down in my heart that Oliver loves me. Very much. "Why on earth would he be cheating on me with my secretary?!" I wasn't sure if I was asking myself an honest question or if I was just letting out steam. It really didn't make any sense! Whatever my husband's reasons were, he had hurt me. Deeply. "There's a reason why he and I have a private elevator in the building. We wanted it just for us. Private!" I griped away. We had wanted to avoid any semblance of impropriety. We had not only wanted to keep people from gossiping; we had also wanted to keep own integrity intact. "We had an understanding about things like this. And we were supposed to be operating on trust. Now it's gone!" I argued.

But then after some of the heated emotion died down, reason kicked in. I thought, "Maybe I should have let my husband explain himself..."

That'll come. Right now, I'm too angry, too upset to talk. I don't even want to look at him.

I use my key to the front door and go inside the foyer. I then lock the door behind me, and when I turned to head for the stairs, I saw a huge banner overhead, with balloons still decorating the foyer in front of me and the living room to my right. I gasp, my hand instinctively covering my mouth. A tear rolls down my cheek as I a thought comes to mind. "My children... My family had something planned for me, and it looks like we were supposed to have guests. Oh... I missed the surprise." There's a stubborn lump stuck in my throat as I try to hold back more tears, afraid that I might wake the kids if I start sobbing in the hallway.

Slowly, I ascend the stairs and walk down the hallway to our bedroom. "Why would Oliver go through all the trouble of planning two separate – and elaborate – surprises for my birthday, and just ruin everything by slipping into a private elevator with another woman? It is so not like him. There has to be an explanation," I wonder.

I wipe away the tears from my eyes and slip quietly into our bedroom to find Oliver sitting on our bed. He is propped up against the headboard, reading something. The light from the lamp on his night table is a bit dim, but I could still see that he was reading a devotional book. He looks up to me. I avoid his searching eyes and place my purse on the table near the door. I go straight through the walk-in closet and into the bathroom to wash up and change into sleeping clothes. He doesn't say a word, but I sense that his eyes follow me all the way into the bathroom.

Minutes later, I return to the bedroom in my pajamas. I let down my hair and brush my blonde locks in front of the mirror, my back against my husband. I could see from the mirror that Oliver is still reading his book, but he is glancing at me from time to time, still not saying a word. I'm not saying a word to him either, and the cold war continues.

After I put down my hairbrush, I walk towards my side of the bed and pick up my favorite hugging pillow. I had already decided before coming home that I'd be sleeping in the guest room tonight... tomorrow night... and the night after that.

Oliver stirs and turns towards me. "Felicity, don't. I'll move to the guest room if you still want to be alone. You can stay comfortable in here."

"Fine," I reply dryly without looking at him.

I put my hugging pillow back in place and lie down. I pulled the covers up to my chest and closed my eyes. Suddenly, Oliver takes my hand in his under the covers and squeezes it. I don't refuse the gesture, but I don't open my eyes to look at him either. I wait to see if he has something to say.

"Take your time," he says. "When you're ready to listen, I can explain everything. Go to sleep... and... Happy Birthday, Honey."

He lets go of my hand and I feel him get up from bed. I hear his footsteps heading towards the door. My heart starts beating fast, and it takes me a second to decide whether or not I should say something. Just as he is about to turn the door knob, a few words escape my mouth. "You can stay... but... we'll talk in the morning."

"Okay," he says, and then he comes back to bed. We fall asleep with our backs turned against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were in Felicity's shoes, what would you do? What if you were in Oliver's?


	6. War of the Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity talk... well, sort of. It turns out Oliver has his own set of issues as well.

Carrie:

I open the door to Mom and Dad's bedroom... very softly. l take a peek inside. Mom and Dad are still asleep. Shh... Their backs are turned against each other. I go inside. Then I close the door behind me. I tiptoe into the room... as quietly as I can. I kick off my slippers and climb up their bed... crawling in between their legs.

Dad wakes up first. "Good morning, Daddy!" I say to him. I place my hands on his face, and give him a smack on the lips. "Morning, pretty princess!" Dad says. He hugs me tight. He rubs my belly and I giggle. "Daddy, that tickles! Stop!"

That's when Mom turns to us. She smiles at me and says, "Morning, beautiful. I love you." I turn to my mom and give her a smack on the lips, too. "Love you, too!" I squeal.

And then I stare at her pretty face. I ask her, "You love Daddy, too?" Mom just smiles back.

"What did your mom say, princess?" Dad asks, grinning.

"Nothing... She's just smiling," I answer. "Must be a yes!"

"I hope so," Dad says, still grinning.

"Come on, Carrie, time to get up. I'll set you up for breakfast in the kitchen and ask Emily to watch you. Dad and I have to talk," Mom says.

Oliver:

Felicity left the room with Carrie about twenty minutes ago. I had gotten up from bed and taken a quick shower. I put on sweat pants and a grey V-neck shirt and stepped out into the balcony to get some fresh air. "How do I start to explain everything to my wife?" I wondered. I told myself that it would be a wise idea to begin with a humble apology so that she would see how sincerely sorry I am.

Felicity returns. As she enters the room, her hair still disheveled and flowing down one side of her neck to her shoulders, I can't stop my heart from fluttering. The sight of her still takes my breath away. Even in just her grey tank tops and paisley printed pajamas, she's perfect. I just hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me.

She sits down at the foot of our bed and with a calm voice says, "Okay, so... what was it that you wanted to say?"

I walk back into the bedroom from the balcony and move closer to my wife. I don't think she'd appreciate me sitting next to her just yet, so I walk past her and settle into my Lazy Boy. I lean forward, plant both my elbows on my knees, and place my chin on top of the intertwined fingers of my hands.

I clear my throat and begin to speak, "First of all, I... I just want to say... how sorry I am for what happened. I really am. It's all my fault, and-"

"What is?" she asks.

"Hurting you. By being alone in the elevator with your secretary," I reply.

"Is that all?" she asks again. She's obviously probing to see if there's something more.

"No," I say, looking straight into her eyes. I have nothing to hide. "There's nothing going on between me and your secretary. And that's the truth."

"Really?" my wife asks. Both her eyebrows and her voice are higher than normal. "Then why was she leaning towards you, tugging at your tie in such close proximity?! And there you were... grabbing her by her shoulders, ready to-"

"Ready to push her away," I say with a slightly louder tone of voice. "I meant to push her away. Honest!" I take a deep breath and blow out air through my mouth, and then I bury my face in my hands.

For a moment there's just silence... and then I hear my wife sniffing. I look up and I see her brushing away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Why was she in there with you in the first place? We agreed..." Felicity asks softly, almost in a whisper.

"I'm sorry, babe. She asked for a lift and I didn't think twice. Thought it was harmless," I reply more calmly.

"Oliver, ever since Ms. Bertinelli started working for me, I knew she had a crush on you. She looked at you differently and behaved differently when you're around," Felicity reveals. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because... because even though I didn't trust her that much, I... I trusted you."

"Trusted?" I ask. Her last few words disturb me. I thought a simple apology and explanation would do the trick, but no. I'm afraid this goes much deeper than just a misunderstanding. "Don't you still trust me? Felicity?"

My wife closes her eyes shut, causing teardrops to fall to the floor. She doesn't answer me, and that makes me even more anxious. I get up from my seat and kneel in front of her, taking both her trembling hands in mine. I rub circles on her knuckles with my thumbs and tell her, "I didn't know. I promise. You should have told me what you saw in her and how you felt about it. I had no idea."

Felicity abruptly stands up, breaking away from our locked hands. "Ugh! Oliver Queen, since when did you become so dense? You mean to tell me you never had a hint that Helena Bertinelli was hitting on you? In my office? In my presence? More than once?! I thought you were an expert at reading women!"

I open my mouth to speak, but it immediately closed shut. It's taking every ounce of self-control I could muster just to keep myself from yelling back at my wife. What she just said felt like an insult. "How could you say that? We've been married what? Five years? Five years. I make this one mistake. One mistake that I didn't even intend to make, and you pick this one time to resurrect my past. Haven't I told you? From the very beginning? I'm not that kind of guy anymore!"

"Really? You mean to tell me that you don't find Helena Bertinelli gorgeous and attractive?" Felicity retorts with her hands on her hips.

"So what if she is?! You're my wife. I love you, and that's what matters," I argue.

"So you do find her gorgeous and attractive!" Felicity screams, completely missing my point.

"What?! No! That's not what I meant!" I protest. My temper is really starting to brew.

"No? So what did you mean? That I'm old and worn out and I'm boring you to death?"

"Where is this coming from?! You're not-"

"Am I not?! I give you three beautiful children and the next thing I know, you're flirting with a younger woman with the body of a supermodel who just happens to be my secretary! So, why don't you admit it? You do like the attention she's giving because your own wife is losing it!"

"Felicity! Are you listening to yourself? You're not-"

"Oh, but I am!"

"Fine! If you say so!" I am now yelling at the top of my lungs, and it startles my wife. "Felicity, you're not old and boring. But worn out? Yes! You're overworked and stressed, and you're cranky most of the time. You're missing out on quality time with our kids. And more often than not, you're too tired to even meet my needs! But do I complain? No! I've tried... time and again... to understand where you're coming from, and I've tried to be patient with you... because it was my idea that got you into this in the first place. Quite frankly, I regret it! And I'm sick and tired of babysitting you. You working two jobs at QC was a bad idea. Felicity, you are a gorgeous, attractive woman. But if you keep this up, all I'll ever see is the lousy, pathetic wife and mother you are turning out to be!"

My wife is shocked. I can clearly see the hurt in her eyes as the bright blue hue is blurred by a pool of tears. She turns away and drops down on her side of our bed, sobbing into her pillow.

I am shocked. That was perhaps among the few times when I had plenty of things to say at one time. It takes me only a split-second to realize how much my outburst in bitter rhetoric had just wounded my wife's fragile heart, and that broke mine, in turn. I come near her and kneel beside the bed where she lay crying. I reach out to touch her beautiful blonde hair, but she pushes my arm away.

"Felicity, I'm sorry."

"Leave me alone!"

"I didn't mean what I said."

"Sure you did," she says as she weeps bitterly.

"I didn't mean it. I was just angry... and got carried away. Please, baby."

"Don't baby me! Go away! I just want to be alone."

Regretfully and painfully, I walked away and left my wife crying in our bedroom.

Emily:

Sunday passed. Mom took all five of us kids to church while Dad stayed home to work out in the gym with Uncle John. Monday passed by, too. Instead of picking up our wedding outfits at the shop after school, Mom had the couturier deliver the dresses to our mansion the following day. I can see she isn't too excited about Aunt Thea's wedding now. Something's changed since she and Dad had a big fight that started on her birthday last Friday and escalated over the weekend.

Every time I look at our mom, she seems unhappy and upset, like there's a dark cloud constantly hovering over her. Dad is the same way. They're still not talking to each other, and it's beginning to bother me. It's been almost five days. This by far is their longest, worst fight ever. Dad's been sleeping in the guest room.

I've talked to Stephen about this, and we had tried to come up with ideas how to get them to kiss and make up. In the end, Stephen said that it's best that we leave them alone to sort out their differences. "They'll come around, Ems. They always do," Stephen assured me.

They better. And fast. Tonight is the wedding rehearsal, followed by a special dinner with the Queen and Harper families. I mean, Mom is Aunt Thea's maid of honor, and Dad is Uncle Roy's best man. Wouldn't it be awkward if they still weren't speaking to each other? Oh, brother! I'm dreading it already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps the shortest chapter in the story, but the angst does make up for what is lacking in length. 
> 
> So it turns out that our ever sweet Felicity is not the only one with pent up emotions and unresolved issues. Oliver's have begun to surface too. So, where do they go from here?


	7. The Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Thea's wedding rehearsal, Stephen meets someone special. Emily decides to do something about her parents' cold war, and Tommy and Sara Merlyn pick it up from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several Arrow characters appear in this chapter of our little AU fic, but I think it'll be easy for you to follow. I hope you like this, and feel free to let me know.

Stephen:

I prepared myself for a boring evening. I even brought my tablet just in case there wouldn't be a single soul whom I could have an interesting conversation with.

Right now, the grownups are making a big fuss about the wedding details. Sure, this is just a rehearsal, but everybody's edgy and all worked up. Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy can't even smile at each other, as a bride and groom should. They're both fumbling over the words of their vows. Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara are bickering over whose fault it was that they had arrived late, and Uncle Diggle and Aunt Lyla are taking turns chasing after Emily, Dana, Andy, TJ, and Liv. Grandma Moira, who had flown in with Walter Steele yesterday from London, is surprisingly cranky, nagging Aunt Thea to get the evening's activities moving along so that she could go home and rest, because she's having a bad case of jet lag. Even the Reverend seems annoyed at the tense and chaotic scenario; he looks agitated, maybe because in his hurry to get here, he had forgotten his notes for the ceremony in his office at the church, causing him to extemporaneously deliver his lines in front of everyone, much to his embarrassment. Uncle Roy's parents are speechless and uneasy in the midst of all the exchanges of tension and irritation, perhaps wondering (or thinking twice) about what kind of family their son is marrying into.

Aside from me, only two people appeared to be calm and composed - Mom and Dad. Both of them had been particularly quiet since the rehearsal started. But then again, I think they're not really calm and composed. It's more like they're indifferent, not towards what is happening, but towards each other. Dad is standing beside Uncle Roy, as lifeless as driftwood. Mom is standing behind Aunt Thea, using her sister-in-law as a shield to avoid her husband's and the reverend's line of sight. Mom and Dad still haven't patched things up between them, and that's too bad. Their wedding anniversary is on Friday - just two days away - followed by Aunt Thea's wedding on Saturday. My parents shouldn't be so unhappy when everyone should be celebrating this weekend.

I shake my head in disgust as I observe all this. "I wonder when the grownups will grow up," I think to myself.

As I scratch the back of my head, I turn around slightly. And then something catches my attention. Someone, rather. She is walking briskly towards the group up front, half sprinting actually, ahead of two adults who most likely are her parents. They're obviously late. But whoever she is, her time management doesn't matter to me as much as her charm. She looks... amazing!

She wears her long, dark brown hair with copper streaks in a single loose braid that runs from the back of her head down to her right shoulder. Her hazel eyes twinkle like the stars as long eyelashes flutter up and down. The freckles that flanked her high-bridged nose highlighted the features of her angelic face. Just looking at her relaxes and refreshes me in the midst of such a stressful situation. It looks like she's about an inch or two shorter than me, but I think we're about the same age.

"Sorry, we're late Uncle Roy. It's their fault," she says, pointing her thumb towards her parents. Even with the frown on her face she looked adorable.

"Why am I not surprised?" Uncle Roy retorts. "I told you guys to leave early." He shakes his head in disappointment.

"Well, I told them you told them so. But I guess Mom and Dad are hopeless when it comes to coming on time. When you say the rehearsal starts at five o'clock, to them it's more like a suggestion rather than an appointment." Everyone laughed at the fourteen-year-old's clever remark.

Uncle Roy rolls his eyes and Aunt Thea picks that up as her cue to speak. "Everybody, I'd like you to meet Roy's younger sister Cindy; we just call her Sin for short. This is her husband Chris, and this smart and sassy young lady is their daughter Katie."

Katie. "Cute name for such a cute girl," I think to myself. At this precise moment, she looks my way and flashes a million-dollar smile that sends a lightning bolt running through my veins. The evening might not be boring after all.

Emily:

As soon as that brown-haired girl walked into the scene, I instantly felt the urge to look at my brother. And there it was... a gaping mouth on his awestruck face - the clear sign of a budding infatuation. I can't blame him, though. This girl is very pretty, and I mean, based on my standards, she passes with flying colors. The other girls that Stephen normally has a crush on are more like poor excuses for girlfriends, so much so that Mom and Dad never even notices them. But if Stephen decides he likes this one, he's got my vote. What can I say? Katie is more than just a pretty face; she has charm and grace and wit - no doubt - judging from the way she blends in with the grownups. I have a feeling she and I are going to get along well.

I laugh as Stephen sits frozen in his seat while she passes by him and occupies a chair just a few feet away from him and me.

"Hi! My name is Emily," I introduce myself to the newcomer.

"Hello, I'm Katie. Pleased to meet you, Emily. Are you on Thea's side of the family?"

"Yes, I am. She's my aunt, my dad's only sister. That's my dad over there. He's the best man... and I mean that literally," I reply.

"Oh, that's so sweet. I wish I could say that about my dad," she says and then pauses. I could tell that something serious crossed her mind just when she thought about her father. "Anyways, I'm assuming that the beautiful blonde that's Thea's maid of honor is your mom?" she continues with a question.

"Oh, yeah. That's my mom," I say to her, nodding twice. "Hey, I'd like you to meet my brother."

I tap my brother's shoulder. He looks at me with that shy expression on his face, lowering his gaze so as to avoid Katie's field of vision.

"Katie, this is my older brother Stephen. Stephen, this is Katie," I say to them.

"Hi, Stephen! It's nice to meet you. You have one congenial younger sister right here," Katie says with a smile.

"Huh? Uhm... Yeah, right... Who?" Stephen stumbles over his words as if he has a speech impediment. Katie's eyebrows wrinkle together; she's obviously confused and unimpressed with his very awkward response.

Oh, brother! Of all the times Stephen chooses to choke, he chooses now. I nudge him slightly with my elbow and glare at him with a get-your-act-together look in my eyes.

"Oh... Yes, uhm... I'm Stephen Queen," he manages to say. "You have no idea how wonderful it is for me to meet a girl like you, Katie."

"Whoa! That's a little bit too much," I yell inside my head. I don't think my brother realizes he had just said what he had just said out loud. He is obviously in a trance, and it's quite embarrassing. I wish he's snap out of it before he makes a fool of himself in front of this fabulous girl, whom I don't mind having as my sister-in-law in the distant future.

Katie is so polite she just chuckles with finesse, despite the fact that my older brother is evidently in a daze, short of drooling over her.

After a couple of minutes, Stephen and Katie seem to be more comfortable with each other, so I sense that my matchmaking mission can be temporarily put on hold. I left them to themselves and walked up to my mom who was still standing close to Aunt Thea.

"Mom, how much longer will this take? I'm done practicing my march down the aisle, and I'm running out of things to do," I ask.

"Just a little longer, sweetie," she answers, "and then we all go inside for dinner."

Twenty minutes pass, and then everybody goes into the mansion for dinner. This time, the dining room only serves as a buffet area where we go get our food. The tables and chairs for dining are set up at the outdoor lanai overlooking the vast gardens of the estate at the rear side of the mansion. The Harpers are seated in one table with Aunt Thea, Walter, and Grandma Moira. They're getting to know more of each other's family backgrounds. Mom sits with the Merlyns, the Lances, and a couple of bridesmaids and groomsmen, while Dad sits with the Diggles and few pairs of sponsors. I'm seated in a long, low table with little chairs set up especially for us kids.

I don't know if the rest of our extended family members notice (as I do) that my parents are not sitting together for the first time ever. If they are, they're doing a pretty good job of covering it up. It saddens me. No. It annoys me. Why can't they just kiss and make up? How hard is that? With the way they're acting, they're going to mess up Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy's wedding!

That's when I decide to take matters into my own hands.

I walk up to my mom and say discreetly (but within earshot of Aunt Sara and Uncle Tommy), "Mom, have you thought about what you'd like to do for your wedding anniversary this Friday? I think the Queen kids can manage without you for one night so that you and Dad can have fun." I grin as I wait eagerly for her response. I'm also anticipating my aunt's and uncle's reactions.

"Oh, sweetie... I haven't even thought about that," Mom replies with a fake smile and a dry chuckle.

"Oh? Why not? You always think ahead, especially when it comes to special occasions. You usually already have a gift or a surprise planned for Dad at least a week before."

"I've been busy, Ems. I haven't given it much thought," she answers.

By this time I can see my Aunt Sara's puzzled face. I know I've successfully gotten her attention. I look at her like I'm begging for her help to fix things with Mom and Dad. Surprisingly, she gets it. She gives Uncle Tommy a knowing look, he shrugs his shoulders, and she looks at me with a don't-you-worry-I'll-handle-this expression in her eyes.

So I just say to my mom, "Well, okay then. Too bad. I guess there won't be any surprises this year." I walk away with an exaggerated look of frustration on my face. I'm going to leave it up to Aunt Sara and Uncle Tommy to think of something.

Oliver:

"Okay, okay. Tommy, I get it. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," I said to my best friend over the phone, and then he hangs up. I had obliged Tommy earlier this morning that I would help him pick out jewelry for Sara to wear on tomorrow's big event. I had wanted to leave the office earlier today and try my hardest to convince my wife to have dinner with me somewhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with her.

I miss my wife. I miss holding her hand. I miss enveloping her in my arms. I miss her lips on mine. Since our big fight last weekend, I've attempted to strike up conversations with her twice. Both had failed. I'm running out of ideas, and I'm becoming more and more desperate. This day can't be over without a breakthrough. After all, it's our sixth wedding anniversary.

I see Tommy pacing back and forth at the entrance of the jewelry store in one of Starling's more expensive shopping malls. He looks up and waves as soon as he sees me approaching. I wave back, and as the distance between us lessens, I call out, "Hey!"

"Hey!" Tommy greets back. "Thanks for doing this, man. I know it's your anniversary. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything?" Tommy asks. Because I know my friend too well, I know that he's fishing for information.

I grin at him and say, "Nah. We don't have anything planned. Not yet."

"Well then, let's go inside and get this over with, so that you and the missus can still have enough time to plan for something to do later tonight." Tommy opens the glass door and leads me into the jewelry store.

We spend fifteen minutes looking over some necklaces with matching earrings. I've been able to pick out at least three exquisite diamond sets, but none of them seem to suit Tommy's taste. It's either too simple or too fancy, or the price isn't quite right. After fifteen more minutes of Tommy's fits of being picky and choosy, I throw my hands in the air and blurt out, "That's it! I'm done! You can just take your pick from the ones I've already pre-picked for you. I'm sure you'll find one... in a million years. I'm outta here."

Tommy doesn't seem to be paying attention to my flaring up in frustration. He has his back turned against me, stooping down on one of those glass casings. And just as head out the door of the store, he says triumphantly, "What about this?" I turn around and see him holding up an elegant necklace made of white gold. It had a lovely purple amethyst at the center surrounded by a dozen tiny diamonds that glistened when struck by light. My friend surely had great taste.

"Sure! It's perfect, and it matches the wedding motif. Go ahead and pay for it so that we can get out of here. It's getting late," I urge Tommy.

"Okay. You think Felicity will like it?"

"Huh?" I respond with confusion. "I thought we were picking out jewelry for Sara?"

"Yes, we were. But I can't seem to find anything that she will like to wear. When I saw this one, I easily pictured Felicity wearing it. It's the perfect accent for the outfit of the maid of honor. Don't you agree?"

"Well... yes, I do. It's perfect for her. But I wasn't really planning on-"

"Come on, Oliver! When was the last time you bought jewelry for your wife?"

I couldn't answer immediately. I had forgotten.

Tommy alerts the sales clerk that we're taking the amethyst necklace and the matching earrings.

"Cash or card, sir?" the young lady behind the cash register asks Tommy.

"Oh, no. You see my friend over there? He's the one paying for this," Tommy answers, laughing his heart out. This is so like Tommy.

I recognize the trick he's trying to pull. How he found out that Felicity and I aren't on speaking terms, I have no idea. But knowing my friend, he only means well. He just has an intrusive way of showing it. We walk out of the store with Tommy's arm around my shoulder. With a big smile radiating from his mischievous face, he says, "So Oliver, my man, now you have a really good reason to ask your wife out tonight."

I respond with a warm smile. I know Tommy knows that I appreciate his gesture.

Just when I think he's run out of tricks to pull, Tommy adds, "But there's one more stop we have to make before I let you go."

"And where is that?" I ask.

"I told Sara we'd meet her at Caprice.There was something she wanted to show you," he replies.

Felicity:

Of course, Caprice would be crowded on a Friday night. It's a plush restaurant that specializes in Mediterranean cuisine. It's a favorite weekend dating place among Starling City's elite professionals, and Sara and Tommy are among those. Personally, I still prefer Big Belly Burger's, but because Sara is paying, I didn't mind tagging along. I really like the live, acoustic music in that restaurant because it's unique; the performers they feature on weekends play Flamenco guitar pieces or sang traditional and love songs from Spain, southern France, and Italy. It's kind of refreshing to hear when your ears are so accustomed to listening to pop music (and children's songs in my case) most of the time.

Sara had called yesterday and invited me to go shopping for shoes to wear on Thea's wedding, but I told her I had already done that last week with my girls. When she insisted, saying that she'd still be willing to buy me a new pair of shoes that I could wear on other occasions, I obliged. Another pair of signature heels wouldn't hurt, especially if I'm not the one paying for it. And when Sara found out that my husband and I had nothing planned for tonight, she invited me to have dinner with her.

So here we are, seated in a special cozy mini-gazebo that she had reserved the night before with Caprice management, enjoying a glass of champagne as we waited for appetizers to be served. "It's a bit odd for two married women to be sharing a candle-lit dinner alone," I think to myself as I look around. But Sara tells me that she's been missing my company and has been wanting to spend some time catching up with me. Since her transfer from the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia to their office in Central City before she and Tommy were married, she's been busy with work. And since she drove almost an hour every day from Starling City to go to work, coming home late almost every day, she's quite difficult to catch. Tonight's girl date is really a rare treat. So, I just go with the flow and enjoy the evening instead of minding the extravagance around me.

But then I also notice how the ambiance in this place is all classy and romantic - everything that Oliver would like for a time and a place to celebrate a special occasion like today. Like our anniversary.

I miss my husband. I miss holding his hand. I miss being enveloped in his arms. I miss his lips on mine. Since our big fight last weekend, he's attempted to strike up conversations with me twice. But I couldn't bring myself to respond positively just yet. Maybe it's pride. Or fear. I'm not really sure. What I know for sure is that I can't do this anymore. My heart aches for him. And if this day ever ends without a breakthrough, I really have no one else to blame for it but myself.

My regretful contemplation is broken by Sara's voice. "Earth to Felicity... Hey? Where have you been?"

"Oh... I'm sorry. I spaced out," I say.

"Is everything okay?" Sara asks.

"Sure. Everything's fine. I'm probably just hungry. You know how I get when I'm hungry."

"Of course I do. But when you're hungry you babble and talk a lot. You never space out, girl." Sara is just so smart. Maybe that's why the government hired her to be a federal agent solving difficult cases involving criminal minds. "Something's bothering you," she continues, "I can tell." She winks at me and then flashes a naughty smile.

Just before I could respond, I hear Tommy's familiar voice behind me. "Well, hello there, our gorgeous girls! So nice to see you."

"Our girls? What did he mean by 'our girls'?" I ask myself.

So I turn around and see Tommy approaching with Oliver right behind him. Suddenly, everything becomes clearer. Sara and Tommy had set us up. How they found out that Oliver and I aren't on speaking terms, I have no idea. But knowing our friends, they only mean well. They just have an intrusive way of showing it.

"Oh, darling!" Sara says, rising to greet her husband and planting a kiss on his cheek. She turns to Oliver and greets him enthusiastically. "Oliver! It's good to see you. What are you two doing here? Spying on us?" she asks the guys.

Tommy glares at his wife, tilts his head, and does something with his eyebrows. "Darling, you said you wanted to show Oliver something, right?"

Sara gasps and says unexpectedly, "Oh, yeah, right! So Oliver, I... uh... I wanted to show you that... uhm... how Caprice can set up a romantic dinner for two, just in case, you know... in case you and Felicity ever decide you wanted to celebrate your anniversary any time soon... after tonight, of course..." Sara's voice trails off. She looks at Tommy with puppy dog eyes. "I messed up, didn't I? I'm sorry, darling. We didn't really talk about this part of the plan. I was just improvising."

Tommy grabs his wife by her waist in one endearing sweep of his arms and answers, "It's okay. I think these two are clever enough to have figured it out by now anyway." And then he gives his wife a passionate kiss in front of us.

"Well, if you lovebirds would kindly excuse us, I think this is our cue to disappear and give you two some privacy," I interrupt their public display of affection. "After all, this table is set for just two."

I had been avoiding my husband's gaze ever since he and Tommy arrived a minute or two ago, but as I now pick up my purse and stand from my spot, ready to leave, Oliver grabs my wrist and rubs my forearm tenderly with his thumb. I look up, and our longing eyes lock onto each other's. At last. There's a meaningful silence that settles as time stood still for a while, as if offering us the chance to seize the moment or let it slip away.

It's Oliver who finally breaks that silence. "Baby, I think they had this table set up for this two," he says softly, his finger pointing to the two of us. "It would be really nice if we could stay."

I take a deep breath and lick my lips. And then I say so much with just one word, "Okay."

Without much ado, Sara and Tommy walk away, laughing like silly teenagers who had successfully pranked their friends. Oliver and I sit down, and for the next hour or so simply enjoy both a sumptuous meal and wonderfully relaxing music. We don't talk much, but we do a lot of glancing at each other in between spoonfuls of scrumptious Mediterranean food and swigs of fine wine. Now we are done with dessert, and there is nothing much for us to do under the circumstances but look... just look intently at each other, and try to figure out a way to undo the damage we had done, or try to find our way back home to each other's hearts.

With the stirring timbre of the plucked strings floating in the background, and the soft glow of candlelight reflecting on our hopeful facial features, it is impossible to resist the urge to speak. "Honey..." we say almost in a synchronized way. We then smile and chuckle at ourselves, our pearly whites showing themselves pristinely after having hidden behind pouts and frowns for almost a week.

I recover first and begin to speak. "I propose a truce."

Oliver's eyes narrow, but he manages a grin. "A ceasefire? I was thinking more along the lines of surrender or reconciliation." There is this look on his face. He is testing the waters. Clever guy.

"I'm not ready for that just yet. I'm willing to talk some more, but not in this kind of place. So, I'd settle for a truce for now. Take it or leave it."

"Baby, with you looking at me like that, there is no choice to make. I'll take the truce," my husband declares.

"Good," I respond in the affirmative. "I'll need a little more time to think," I add, and then I take one last sip of my wine as I keep my eyes locked on his.

Oliver reaches for my free hand that's been resting on top of the table. (It's the one wearing our rings.) "Felicity, honey, you can take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

I'm satisfied with the truce. For now. At least, we're now speaking to each other. This would see us through tomorrow's big wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A truce is a start, isn't it? What do you think?   
> We're all set for the fluffiness of the next chapter.


	8. Under a Thousand Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea's wedding brings Oliver and Felicity back together. That's it. It's how it happens that you'll have to read about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written entirely from the points of view of Oliver and Felicity, and the last part is really more like a song fic, taking off from an Ed Sheeran hit song. This somewhat longer chapter includes some fluff and is meant to be a respite after all the angst of the last few chapters. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the words and music of "Thinking Out Loud."

Oliver:

The ride home from dinner at Caprice last night was quiet but peaceful. A lot was said in the silence. I told my wife how sorry I am and how much I love her by giving her the space she needed, and by not demanding that we settle things right then and there. She, on the other hand, told me that she's no longer angry by letting me drive her home and letting Diggle bring her car home in the morning. She told me that she's almost ready to talk and to forgive simply by choosing to be alone with me in the car. The silence continued until we reached the mansion and retired in our bedroom for the evening.

Felicity lay down on the bed beside me, tucked herself under the covers like I had a few minutes ago, and switched off the lamp on her night table. I couldn't let the day end without the certainty of a breakthrough and the hope of reconciliation tomorrow, so I try one more thing. In the darkness I whisper tenderly, "Happy Anniversary, Felicity." My eyes were closed but somehow I could picture my wife's face as the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. A second or two pass by and she replies, just as tenderly, "Happy Anniversary, Oliver."

Felicity:

Today's the big day for Thea and Roy. I am happy for them. Really, I am. It's just that I can't help but feel a tinge of gloominess, which I'm well aware is showing on my face, and which I'm sure won't go away until I resolve the conflict with my husband. I dread the thought of the pictorials later on. Photographs have a way of truthfully preserving the undeniable present, and after the snapshots are taken, there's no erasing memories etched in images forever stilled. I don't want to be looking through Thea's wedding album and wedding video and seeing how miserable I and my husband still are today.

The sun has begun to set, and the sky up above is just perfect. Thea opted for an evening ceremony, which she had specifically requested from Rev. Olsen to be "brief." She had wanted the glow of torches and candle lights to make the atmosphere of her Zen-themed wedding dramatically enigmatic. In my opinion, Thea has done a wonderfully creative job of conceptualizing her wedding, and I just wish that everything will go according to plan, or else Oliver and I won't be the only miserable persons tonight.

It's almost time for the members of the wedding party to rendezvous at the Japanese Garden, and I'm just about ready to join them. I'm wearing my purple lace and chiffon evening gown. It's long-sleeved, and the skirt that flares down from my hips to the floor and extends to a short train at the back, reveals nothing of my legs, but the cowl neck style of the top part drops slightly lower than what I'm usually comfortable with, revealing some cleavage that I hope only my husband would notice and appreciate. "All this needs is a simple, finishing touch of metal and stone," I think to myself as I gaze at my appearance from top to bottom in front of the life-size mirror in our walk-in closet.

But the hunt for simplicity in the Queens' jewelry box takes me longer than I expected. Nothing seemed to match the already elaborate design of my evening gown. Every necklace with matching earrings in my collection here seems too ornate; it would ruin the elegance of the dress. The rest of my jewelry is in the safety deposit box at Starling National Bank. "Oh! Why didn't I think of dropping by the bank earlier today?"

Oliver:

"Ten minutes, people, and then we're ready to start," the wedding coordinator announces. She is already rounding up the members of the entourage, and that's my cue to check on our children and then go and get my wife. I have one thing left to do, one final push that I hope would put an end to our week-long conflict before the ceremony starts.

I open the door to our bedroom and immediately see my wife fumbling through her jewelry in the topmost drawer of the dresser. I close the door behind me as I hear her say in exasperation: "I can't believe there's nothing here that matches what I'm wearing!"

I smile as I open the drawer of my night table and take out a dark green velvet box. "Uhm," I begin to speak, "I think I might be able to help with that."

Felicity stops short, startled that there's someone who had entered the room without her noticing. "Oh, I didn't know you're there," she says. I walk up to her as she turns to face me.

I open the velvet box in front of her, and I say, "I got you these for our anniversary. I wanted to give them to you last night, but-"

"Oliver... This is..." Her lips quiver a bit. "They're wonderful. Thank you," she says. She stares at the set of amethyst necklace and earrings and then looks up to meet my gaze. I'd never grow tired of gazing at her bright blue orbs.

"But... I didn't get you anything," she says in a sad, regretful tone of voice.

"That's okay. I understand. And I think I actually deserve that," I respond thoughtfully and remorsefully. "Try them on," I say with a smile.

Felicity takes the earrings first and puts them on. Then she picks up the necklace, but has trouble with the clasp because she had grown her nails a bit longer than usual and painted them purple for tonight's affair. "Here, let me help you put it on," I offer, and she nods in agreement.

There's no need to brush her hair away from her nape in order to put on the necklace. She has worn her majestic blond mane up in a shell-shaped bun decorated with tiny crystals. I normally prefer her wearing her hair down on special occasions like this, but this new look is just... perfect. My beautiful wife looks even more stunning, like a regal Queen. The dress she's wearing flatters the best assets of her attractive figure. As I put on the necklace around her neck, I fight hard the urge to brush my lips against the flawless, porcelain skin of her nape. It's almost irresistible, but I choose to wait a little longer until our broken hearts are properly mended. Until she's really ready. Until I see in her eyes that she'll welcome it and reciprocate the gesture.

"There. Like them?" I ask, even if I already know that she loves them. I can see it in her eyes.

"I love them." She says it with a small smile, as softly as a restrained whisper, but her eyes betray the intense emotions she's trying to hold back.

I take a few steps backwards to further appreciate the amazing appearance of the woman standing before me. I heave a sigh and shake my head in astonishment. Two words slip out of my mouth unexpectedly as I take in such a breathtaking sight. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," my wife says, her cheeks blushing rosy red. "This one did it," she says with a sweet, charming smile while putting her right hand on the amethyst dangling from the white gold chain.

The purple precious stone is strikingly nestled between my wife's modestly concealed breasts. Her cleavage is showing a little more than usual, and the jewelry accentuates this. For a moment there, I detect some degree of possessiveness inside me. I feel my heart start to burn, and I wonder if I should worry about this sight drawing the attention of more than a couple of males throughout the evening. But I tell myself, "No worries. This woman is mine. For keeps." The thought makes me smile from ear to ear, and we walk out of the room with her holding on to my arm.

Felicity:

Every detail of the wedding ceremony has been going smoothly. I'm relieved for Thea and delighted for myself. She and I had put in hours and hours of work just to put this together, and I'm proud of how it's turning out. The anxiety that had been showing on Thea's face this past week has vanished without a trace. She looks very happy, like she is on cloud nine.

I envy her. I wish I can say that the gloom hovering above me like a dark cloud had completely vanished by now, but I can't. I'm very sure I still love my husband. I do... perhaps even more today than ever before. Maybe that's why I feel so terrible that we haven't kissed and made up yet. It's the trust issue that I still struggle with. What if he fails again? What if one day he does get attracted to someone else? I mean, surely there are dozens of women far better than me. What happens when I truly grow old and get worn out?

I'm standing on the left side of the altar near the bride. My handsome husband in his absolutely gorgeous tuxedo is standing on the opposite side, holding the box of the wedding rings in his hand. The memory of our own wedding flashes back in my mind. It seems just like yesterday we were standing on the altar set up at the Rose Garden on the other side of the mansion, exchanging promises of forever. I can still see Oliver's face, glowing brightly with sincere love and affection. I can still feel the beating of my heart, inundating with so much respect and admiration for this wonderful, wonderful man that had been divinely appointed to be my partner for life.

The piercing sound of a slight feedback coming from the sound system brings me back from my contemplation. As soon as the problem is fixed, Reverend Olsen continues his mini-sermon. I recognize he is reading from a Scripture passage in the New Testament.

"Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs..."

The sacred words tug at my heart. I've been proud and impatient. I've been easily angered. And for days now, I have kept a record of my husband's wrongs, and I have dishonored him in front of my children and other people. I love him so, and I realize what I must do. Forgive, and be forgiven.

Oliver:

From the periphery of my vision, I carefully observe my beautiful wife. Felicity is staring in front of her, beyond the Reverend, clearly lost in thought. "I wonder what she's thinking about," I say to myself. "I hope she's thinking about me... and her." I do hope she's figuring out a way to unlock the doors of her heart to let me in again. I do hope she'd give me one more chance to prove that she's the only woman on the face of the earth that owns and will ever own my heart.

The piercing sound of a slight feedback coming from the sound system brings me back from my contemplation. As soon as the problem is fixed, Reverend Olsen continues his mini-sermon. I recognize he is reading from a Scripture passage in the New Testament.

"...Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails..."

The sacred words tug at my heart. I have failed. I let down my guard and allowed evil access to mess with the truth. I have failed to protect my wife from malice and hurt. I have failed to protect myself from another scheming woman's vicious trap. I have failed to protect our relationship from the onslaughts of anger and bitterness. I have failed my wife's trust. But I will never lose hope, and I am willing to persevere. Whatever the cost. I will pursue my wife to the ends of the earth, if need be. Because I love her. With all my heart.

Felicity:

A few minutes more and the Reverend moved on to the ring ceremony and the exchange of vows. Oliver stepped forward to give the rings to him. With ecstatic faces, Thea and Roy slipped the rings into each other's fingers, vowing undying love to each other. And then came their original vows... well, slightly original... because they had a lot of coaching from me. For me, it was like deja vous...

"I, Thea Dearden Queen, take you, Roy Harper, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to love, respect, and honor you with all my heart, mind, and strength, to be your partner for life - in building a home, raising our children, and in seeing your hopes and dreams become reality. I promise to be faithful to you through good times and bad, and to never let anything or anyone get in the way of our relationship even when it hurts..."

Thea's words draw my attention to Oliver and I look away from her to him. He's already looking at me, so intently, in fact. His eyes are filled with sincerity, affection, and hope, and I cannot turn away from his gaze. It holds me... steadfastly, securely. And I find my way home. To his heart.

Oliver:

The rings are already in their fingers, and the time has come for Thea and Roy to exchange vows. Thea speaks first. As she begins, I look intently at my lovely wife. Roy follows suit, and for me, it was like deja vous...

"I, Roy Harper, take you, Thea Dearden Queen, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love you with all my heart and soul, to care for you and protect you at any cost. In my line of work I put my life on the line every day, and that's exactly what I promise I'd do for you every moment of every day, and more. I promise to provide for your needs and for the needs of the family we will build together. I promise to be faithful to you, and will do my utmost to protect your honor and guard your trust..."

Roy's last few words grip my innermost being as my wife's eyes lock onto mine. Her eyes are filled with sincerity, affection, and hope. I see it there, in the power of a gaze - forgiveness. I heave a deep sigh. It is a sigh of release... of freedom. And I find my way home. To her heart.

Felicity:

The wedding ceremony is over. The bride and groom, together with the entourage and immediate family members are posing for pictures. Oliver and I? We're both smiling. A lot. Gone is the dark cloud over my head. Gone is the shadow of guilt that followed him around.

Several times we catch ourselves glancing at each other even as the reception commenced. We both know what we want - and that is to crash into each other's arms, kiss, and make up - but we have social responsibilities to fulfill this evening. We have to wait a little longer, and I can read from Oliver's body language that the suspense is killing him as much as it is killing me. We survive the traditional best man and maid of honor speeches and toasts, as well as the lavish Asian-inspired dinner. But by the time hosts announced that the bride and groom and their parents are ready for the traditional first dance, I can wait no longer.

I stand up from my place at the long VIP table and take leave discreetly. I make my way to the Rose Garden, excitedly and expectantly.

Oliver:

As Thea and Roy take to the dance floor, I remember the first dance I shared with my wife six years ago, and I turn to look her way at the other side of the long VIP table. I'm surprised not to see her there. "Where? She was sitting there just a minute ago," I wonder.

It didn't take me a minute to figure out where she must have gone. So I stand up from my place and hurry to my wife's favorite garden in the Queen estate. That's where she'll be, and I hope she's waiting there... for me.

Felicity:

I'm sitting on a park bench in the garden. It's one of the four that remained here, souvenirs of our memorable wedding six years ago. A lot have happened since that day. Oliver's and my careers have thrived, and the company is doing very well. Our marriage has come a long way; Oliver and I have been changing, having our rough edges smoothed by different challenges and conflicts in varying degrees of tension. Our moments of intimacy have added three beautiful children to the wonderful son and daughter we originally had. As I ponder these things, I realize I'd been far too unreasonable for behaving the way I did in the past week towards my husband. "I need to make things right," I say to myself.

Just then, my husband's familiar voice breaches my solitude and the serenity that surrounds me. "I thought I'd find you here," he says behind me.

I turn to face him and say, "I knew you would."

I stand up, smiling at him, and he approaches cautiously. He holds out his hand, and I take it. He then pulls me closer to him and places our joined hands on his left chest.

"This here... this heart belongs to you. No one else. You have to believe it," he tells me in a firm yet loving manner.

"I do," I respond softly. "And I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me this long. I've been foolish."

"That's good to hear," he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"And... I... I'm sorry for being a lousy, pathetic wife... and mother. These past weeks and months. I know you've been putting up with a lot... I just... "

"Felicity, you're not a lousy, pathetic wife and mother. You're a wonderful wife and mother. You just got a little lost in the midst of all the tension at work. You've been bringing home the stress. As your husband and the leader of our family, I'm going to have to make some changes. Starting Monday." My husband's words are stern yet comforting. The irony soothes my guilty soul.

"So... am I forgiven?" I ask.

"Do you even have to ask?" he answers. His short but sweet kiss on my lips gives me the answer.

I then rest my head delicately on his robust chest. I can feel his heartbeat. It isn't racing faster than normal. Oliver is calm, as serene and tranquil as the backdrop of this delightful moment of reconciliation. All around us were roses of different colors, their sweet scent filling the air, reminiscent of the many intimate times we had shared in this garden of memories. Up above a thousand stars help brighten up the moonlit sky, and from the garden next to this one, the subtle rhythmic strains of a new song begins to be performed by the professional band and vocalist. It's one of my more recent favorites, and I smile with eyes closed.

A cold wind blows and I shiver. "It's starting to get chilly," Oliver says. "We should get back to the tent."

"Can we stay a bit longer?" I bargain with him.

"Sure," he indulges my request. He then removes his coat and drapes it around my shoulders, and then his hands snake around my waist under the coat as he pulls me in. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Queen?" he asks with a grin. I nod and reply, "With pleasure."

Oliver begins to rock our bodies from side to side, our hips swaying in sync with the music and with each other. His forehead rests on mine, and my arms are wrapped around his neck.

The words of the song echo in my ears, and I ask him a hypothetical question without looking into his eyes: "Do you think we could still dance like this when we're seventy?"

"What do you mean?"

I look up to him and clarify, "When we're senior citizens living off our pensions... What do you think we'd be like?"

"I'm not sure. I think you and I will be gray-headed and somewhat wrinkled. But I'm pretty sure I can still sweep you off your feet," he answered with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm pretty sure you'll lose some of your hair. Oh my, you think I'll lose some of mine?"

Oliver laughs out loud, breaking away for a while. As soon as he recovers from a fit of laughter, he pulls me close to him again and we continue cruising to the slow dance music. "I sure hope not," he replies. "But isn't losing some hair better than having your memory fade away? I'd hate for you to forget who I am when the time comes."

"I'll never forget you, Oliver. You are etched in this brilliant brain of mine. You're undeletable!"

"Undeletable! That's the best adjective you can come up with? Seriously, I've called you remarkable and a host of other superlatives, and the best you can come up with is a technical compliment?"

"And why not? Isn't that my field of expertise? You should consider that a tribute of sorts!" I justify myself while poking his chest with my index finger. It's my turn to laugh, but my laughter is cut short when he grabs my finger and brushes it across his soft lips. "Oh, that is absolutely, positively sweet and electrifying..."

"You're thinking out loud again, babe," Oliver says in a slightly modulated voice, the one he uses when we're alone in bed. That's when I realize I had just verbalized a thought that was meant to be private. My face reddens, and he chuckles to see me blush. "You're very pretty when you blush." And then he stops swaying us and twirls me around three times. That's when his coat falls off my shoulders and drops to the ground. He then grabs me by the waist and dips my upper body backwards halfway down. I can feel his warm breath on my chest as he slowly pulls me back up and draws me closer and closer to him until our lips are just an inch away.

"My dear, dear wife, when you're seventy, I hope your lips remember the taste of this..." His lips land on mine in a passionate kiss, like a young man falling in love hard at twenty-three with the girl of his dreams. He kisses me like there is no tomorrow... under the light of a thousand stars... and it leaves me breathless.

He breaks the kiss after what seemed like an eternity. I take a deep breath, and when I recover from that ecstatic display of affection, I say, "Oliver Queen, you are a hopeless romantic!"

He smirks. "Let's go. Upstairs," my husband whispers, and I see his eyes darken with desire.

"But the kids?" I say, "Whose going to check up on th-"

"I've put Lucia in charge of them for the rest of the evening," he replies, as he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me back to the mansion, not leaving me any choice.

It appears my husband has had the entire evening planned out, and something tells me I am going to enjoy it. Definitely.

Oliver:

Three days later, Felicity discovers that I had planned for so much more than just last Friday. She wakes up to her alarm and gets up to get ready to go back to the office after a week of working at home.

"Good morning, honey!" I greet her.

"Good morning," she greets back lazily. "You're up early," she says as she walks up to me and sits on my lap, her legs dangling out of the left side of my Lazy Boy. She takes the morning paper from my hands and throws it on the floor. "I wish I didn't have to go to work today and just snuggle up in your lap like this for as long as I want."

"You don't have to go to work today," I tell her, smiling. "But you can't snuggle up in my lap for as long as you want. We'll be late for our flight."

Felicity's eyes widen with surprise. "What flight?"

"The one we're getting on at 10:15 a.m. Destination: the Philippine islands. You didn't think I gave up too easily, did you?" I wink at her and laugh.

"Oliver Queen! You planned all of these all along didn't you?" she squeals with glee. "And I love you all the more for it!" She kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and my lips. And then she gasps...

"You said 10:15 a.m.? Today? What time is it? I've gotta go pack! And the kids! What about the kids?"

"Don't worry about them. Your parents arrived early this morning on the QC jet. They're in one of the guest rooms catching up on sleep. They'll be in-charge of everything here, including the children, for the next two weeks while we're on our honeymoon, since Thea and Roy are away on theirs," I explain to her while I rub my free hand up and down the soft skin of her arm. "And don't bother about packing. Everything you'll need is already in that suitcase." I point to her pink, hard-shell suitcase standing near the door beside my own dark green, hard-shell suitcase.

"Oh! I could just kiss you, Mr. Queen!"

"Why don't you?"

"My dear, thoughtful, wonderful husband," Felicity says slowly, one word at a time, "if I start kissing you now, we'll never get to the airport on time." She stands up and darts across the room to the bathroom. "I'll race you to the shower!" she calls out. My jaw drops, realizing what my wife means. Instinctively, my feet dash after her to the bathroom in a second. Unfortunately, she locks the bathroom door before I could get in. I hear laughter inside, and I frown.

Felicity:

I finish putting on light makeup and dressing up for the flight. Coming out of the bathroom, I pick up my pink suitcase and place it on top of the bed to check whether or not Oliver had packed the right things and if indeed it had everything I needed in it. On top are my summer clothes and sun dresses, and a few comfortable evening wear. All the toiletries I'd need are neatly packed in a fuchsia-colored pouch; the only thing I need to pack is my cosmetics kit. I rummage through some more clothes and find new swim wear, lingerie, and underwear, still with their brand tags attached. "Oh my... Oliver..." I muttered.

My husband steps out of the bathroom, all dressed up and smelling fresh. I turn around and look at him with an eyebrow raised, holding up two new two-piece bikinis. "Oliver? What are these?"

"Swim wear. I bought you those for this trip," he answers.

"Honey... I am not wearing these," I declare, putting my hands (that are still clutching both pairs of kiddie-sized swim wear) on my hips.

"Why not? They'd look great on you," he remarks.

"Don't flatter me, Oliver! These won't fit me. I mean, look at them! This is practically the size of pre-teens. You might as well have bought them for Emily! And even if I fit in them, I still won't wear two-piece bikinis. My pouch will show!" I am totally flustered.

"What pouch?" Oliver asks with a puzzled look on his face.

"This one right here," I point to my lower abdomen.

"Felicity, you don't have a pouch. "

"Yes, I do!"

"No, you do not. And even if you did, I'm sure I'd find it utterly adorable," he winks, trying to use humor to reassure me, but I'm not convinced.

I reply, "I'm not wearing these bikinis. End of story."

"Not even for me?"

"In this bedroom maybe. But not in public! That would be the embarrassment of the century."

"Then you're wearing it," he responds with a naughty smile.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You're wearing it. You said you're not wearing it in public. Well, where we're going, it's just going to be you and me."

"I thought you said we were going on an island resort in... where's that again?"

"Coron, Palawan. In the Philippines. Southeast Asia."

"Right. That tropical island place." I pause. "What do you mean it's going to be just you and me?"

"Well... I sort of... rented an entire island there, just to ourselves. It's complete with all the amenities of a beach resort. It's going to be just us. So... you're wearing those bikinis. End of story," my husband says decisively with a smirk on his face.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't find any more excuses. I put the swim wear back into the suitcase, feeling defeated. I hold up some of the underwear and lingerie he had bought for me and turn around to face my shrewd husband. I take a deep breath through my nose and blow out air through my mouth. "I guess I have no grounds to bargain with you about these, too?"

Oliver shakes his head and replies, "Nope, sorry." His eyebrows move up and down, taunting me.

I zip my suitcase closed and set it down on the floor. "Oh, wipe that smirk off your face! We gotta go!" I say as I headed for the door with my suitcase in tow.

"After you," he says with a chuckle.

This is going to be some honeymoon. Guess who's looking forward to enjoying it more.

Two days later, Oliver and I are lying on our backs on the white sand beach of an island cove in Coron, Palawan under the moonlight, gazing at a thousand stars, wishing we could be in each other's arms every moment of every day, and wondering why on earth we had ever doubted each other over a woman like Helena Bertinelli.

"Oliver?" I ask.

"Yes, babe?"

"Whatever happened to Helena Bertinelli? The head of HRD called to inform me before we left that she's no longer reporting for work when I get back."

"Thea terminated her contract."

"Thea?"

"Okay. I fired her and got Thea to fix the papers."

"On what grounds?"

"Serious misconduct."

"Oh... And HRD was behind you in this?"

"Yes, totally. You need not worry," Oliver answers. "Now could we please put Helena Bertinelli behind us and stop talking about work?"

"Okay," I reply. "Oliver, thank you. That means a lot to me. I don't think I can work with her after everything that's happened."

"I understand. That's why I had to do what I had to do. I also wanted to show you that you matter to me... more than anyone or anything. I'd do whatever it takes to show you that you can trust me."

My husband rolls over, grounds his elbow on the sand, and rests his head on his hand. He traces circles around my belly button, and I wonder why I find it soothing instead of tickling. The waves crash beneath us, soaking our legs.

I turn and gaze at my husband's handsome face. I cup his face in my hands, caressing his stubble with my thumbs. "I love you, Oliver Queen."

"Perhaps not as much as I love you, Felicity Smoak Queen," he replies affectionately and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. What more could a woman ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, they finally kiss and make up. I was feeling kind of like a hopeless romantic when I was writing, hence, all this fluff (that extends even to the next chapter). If the fluff if giving you a tooth-ache, please bear with me for another chapter. All of this is meant not just for your reading pleasure, but even more so, to establish the depth of Oliver and Felicity's relationship in this AU, which is necessary for the development of the plot. After this, the focus will be more on their family, and the plot also thickens and segues into suspense and mystery. Let me know what you think so far. Thanks again for reading!
> 
> P.S. Allow me to say... There is something uniquely beautiful and amazing about the love between a man and a wife, and I celebrate that every day.


	9. Fluffy and Fishy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's right in Oliver and Felicity's world...  
> Or so they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not as long as the others, but I hope the fluff makes up for its shortness. It's more of a filler and transition chapter. You'll see why.

Oliver:

I wake up, but I refuse to open my eyes. What is it about reaching middle age that makes a person automatically wake up each morning at about the same time... whether you want to or not? It's like clockwork, and it makes the alarm seem useless. I sigh in frustration.

Why? Isn't it frustrating to have an incredible dream cut short? It's the same dream since Felicity and I came home from our two-week honeymoon in the Southeast Asian tropics. That's where the dream takes place, and she's the only person in it with me. Every time. Almost every night for more than a month now. And each time, the dream is longer, more romantic, more "fluffy" as the younger generation say today. I just can't seem to get my mind off my wife! I think about her constantly, in between meetings at the office, while I do paperwork, seated in the car while Diggle drives, or while I myself drive. Every time I get an opportunity, I reach for my phone to text or call her, and ask how she is. No wonder I dream about her.

Perhaps it's because our honeymoon was awesome! We went swimming, jet-skiing, and island-hopping. There were days we just lay down on the white sand beach trying to either get a nice tan during the day or relax under the moonlight during the warmer evenings. Some days we just lounged around in the beach house watching the news, movies on cable, or reruns of her favorite TV shows. Other days, we were just in each other's arms for hours, cuddling and snuggling, which usually led to passionate moments of pure, unadulterated intimacy between a satisfied man and his equally satisfied wife. Oh, how we missed that in the past few months prior to our tropical get-away! We were both glad we went on that trip and were able to get away from work, child care, and the many demands of running a corporation and a family estate. It really did wonders for our marriage.

One of the highlights of our vacation was the visit to the Tubbataha Reefs National Park, which was in the middle of the Sulu Sea, about ten hours by boat from the main island of Palawan. The marine park was declared a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO in 1993 and is a protected area in the Philippines because of the perils of over-fishing and other destructive fishing practices. The park is world famous for its coral reefs, which are home to hundreds of species of fish, corals, sharks, whales, and dolphins. (Of course, I know all these because my wife did her homework and shared it with me. Visiting the park was actually her idea, and she begged me to let her learn how to snorkel and how to go diving into the deep blue sea.) By special permit and arrangement with the Philippine Coastguard and the Tubbataha Management Office, we were able to go diving in one of the best dive sites in the world. Felicity learned quickly how to use diving gear; to say that she enjoyed herself and had a grand time would be an understatement. All in all, we enjoyed the visit to the reefs so much so that my wife ended up writing a check from Queen Consolidated for a sizable donation to one of the environmental organizations that's dedicated to ensuring the park's preservation.

In the marine park, she and I stayed, slept, and ate on a yacht for three days. The trip was entirely vessel-based, as there were no land-based accommodation facilities in the park. Thanks to my wife's technical genius, we were able to book a yacht online using her tablet just before we boarded the plane from Starling City International Airport for the vacation. April is summer time - diving season - in that part of the world. Tourists and diving enthusiasts from around the world flock to Tubbataha from March to April and often book yachts and boats months, or even years, in advance. Three days on board a yacht, surrounded by the wonders of the sea, alone with my beautiful and attractive wife... What more could a guy ask for?

That's why my eyes remain shut. I'm reminiscing the most amazing vacation I've ever had in my life.

I roll over to Felicity's side of the bed and feel for her the warmth that her body usually offers, but there is nothing but cold sheets. That's when I open my eyes only to see her space empty. I wonder where she could be. My wife rarely gets up before I do, especially now that school's out and we don't have to wake up early to help the kids get ready.

"Felicity?" I call out to her, thinking that she's just in the bathroom. No answer. I decide - finally - to get up and shower.

Less than ten minutes later, I'm done. I wrap my over-sized towel around my waist and head for the dresser to get myself a clean shirt and a pair of denim walking shorts. Coming out of the bathroom and the walk-in closet, I come to a halt near the threshold and take in the delightful sight of my wife, who obviously has come back from an early morning jog.

Felicity has her back against me, so she doesn't know yet that I'm right behind her. She's facing the door of our bedroom. Both her arms are stretched out in front of her, her palms pushing against the door. One of her legs is bent low; the other is stretched out all the way back with the heel raised a couple of inches or so. She's cooling down with a stretching routine, and I watch her. Quietly and pleasantly amused. Her smooth and silky blonde hair is gathered up in the usual ponytail. She's wearing a pink spandex semi-bra sports top that bares both her arms, and gray running shorts that leaves most of her perfectly shaped legs uncovered. Her athletics outfit accentuates the curves of her torso, hips, and bottom in an undeniably desirable way.

I can't breathe. Cold sweat starts to form on my forehead, my neck, and back. I feel as if rushing back to the bathroom and getting a cold shower might be the best course of action for me right now.

"Get a grip, Oliver! Snap out of it!" I mentally scold myself. I look down at the floor, trying to avoid gazing further at the alluring figure of the woman in my bedroom, who still doesn't have the faintest idea she was being gawked upon. But then it dawns on me: "Why should I snap out of it? She's my wife!"

I look up and fix my eyes on this beautiful creature - heaven's gift to an undeserving man. I realize it isn't lust I'm feeling. Nope. Lust is a strong desire for something forbidden, someone that isn't rightfully yours and yet you insist on having at any cost... no matter how willing a partner that person is. Felicity was my best friend, who became my lover, and is now my one and only wife. The desire I feel for her deserves no guilt, no shame. It's an intense delight and longing for someone that belongs to me, as I belong to her. And yet... it is chaste, unsullied, and untainted either by selfish motives or by wild, uncontrolled passion. We belong to each other, and so it is perfectly all right (and expected, actually) to desire the other eagerly, because we made a solemn commitment to each other in the presence of Almighty God and two hundred witnesses that shared our joy. Outside of marriage, looking at her this way would be a mistake, which could lead to another terrible mistake that would have serious, long-term consequences - just like the ones I have had to live with - not just for the ones involved but also for everyone they care about.

I once heard Rev. Olsen preach, quoting a verse from the Bible that, in the eyes of God, looking at a woman with lust in one's eyes is already committing adultery with her. My mind flashes back to the countless times I was guilty of doing just that in my sordid past, even when I was already married to Laurel. I close my eyes in painful regret, and then I whisper a short prayer, thanking God for the freedom that His forgiveness has brought to my life, and for the undeserved second chance of a wonderful life with Felicity and our beautiful children.

You see, when I married her, I loved her so much. I had never loved anyone like I loved her. Not even my first wife. On our wedding night, I had wanted to give her the best, most special gift I could give the love of my life. I had wanted so much to hold her close and tell her that she was going to be my first time. I had wanted to be alone with her without any tinge of regret in my heart, free from un-erasable images of past lovers playing back in my mind. But I couldn't.

During our first honeymoon, Felicity told me that she had wanted to tell me the same thing. It had made her very sad that she, too, couldn't. As we talked it through, we both agreed that this was perhaps the biggest regret of our lives. Nevertheless, we were happy and grateful to have realized that, because the two of us had waited to be married and exercised every bit of restraint we could muster to remain pure for each other, we were able to share our first intimate moment - and every other blissful moment after that - with joyful and guiltless pleasure.

That night, before we went to bed, we made a pact that we would not fail to teach our children about how vitally important it is to keep themselves pure for the right person when the time comes. I promised to teach our future son or sons to respect women and treat them like they would their own mother and sisters, instead of take advantage of them. She promised to teach our future daughter or daughters to value their purity and behave honorably, reserving the most intimate of relationships for the one whom they would wisely commit to. I vowed that with God's help, I would do everything within my power so that no Queen gentleman would break any more female hearts. She vowed to do everything she can so that none of our daughters would venture down the path of promiscuity or ever allow themselves to be taken advantage of. We both knew from experience that there's just too much at stake.

Felicity:

I finish my stretching routine and turn around to find my husband looking straight at me. No, that's not exactly right. He is looking in my direction, but it seems like he's actually been lost in thought for quite a while. For what reason, it escapes me. So, I attempt to get his attention by clearing my throat. That's when he really looks at me.

"Morning!" I greet him. "I was feeling a bit woozy and lightheaded today so I thought I'd go for an early morning run." I tilt my head slightly and with a flirtatious smile on my face, I ask, "So... how long have you been standing there, gawking at me?"

"Long enough to see how unbelievably attractive you are," he replies, picking up on my teasing.

He leans against the doorpost separating our room from the walk-in closet that led to the bathroom. He is waiting for me to close the gap between us. His eyes trace the outline of my figure from head to foot and then he looks me straight in the eyes. A genuine smile breaks out on his face and he says, "My, oh my... I do have a gorgeous wife." His compliment makes me bite my lower lip and lower my gaze for a brief moment. Then I catch a glimpse of myself on the mirror next to the spot where he is standing, and I see my face blushing as red as a ripe tomato.

I walk towards my husband, and when I am just inches away from his magnificent chest and firm six-pack that always drive me crazy, he adds, "Don't you ever think of jogging in public wearing that."

"Oh, I won't," she answers. "Don't worry, Mr. Queen. This outfit is definitely going into my for-your-eyes-only collection."

And then his lips are on mine, crashing hard. His bare arms pull me close into a tight embrace, and I respond by wrapping my sweaty arms around his neck. The sweat doesn't seem to bother him, even if he had just come out of the shower. As he pulls back slightly to break the kiss, he asks me tenderly in a modulated voice, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"All the time," I reply, brushing my nose against his.

"I think I love you more today than yesterday," he confesses sincerely and affectionately.

"That, my dear husband, is perhaps one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me," I remark.

As soon as I finish that sentence, we are kissing again. His hands caress my back, then my waist, and then my hips. My heartbeat picks up and my breathing begins to race as electricity surges through my body. The next thing I know is...

Emily:

"Dad?" my younger sister Liv asks in shock, her eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. "Why are you squeezing Mommy's butt?"

Clearly startled, yet unwilling to break apart from their embrace, our parents just gasp in surprise. Dad closes his eyes and grits his teeth, and then he rests his forehead on the crown of Mom's head. Mom simply giggles, obviously unable to find the right words to explain their shocking behavior to a four-year-old. Little Carrie, who instantly covered her eyes as we stumbled upon our parents' gross display of affection, is now frowning. I, on the other hand, do not need further enlightenment as to the unbelievable demonstration of spine-chilling, horrifying fluff that my sisters and I had just witnessed. I mean, this is not the first time Stephen or I had walked in on Mom and Dad kissing and touching in ways only married people could and should.

Thinking that my parents needed a way out of this mess with their untarnished reputation intact in the eyes of my younger siblings, I answer Liv's question for them, giving the most creative explanation I can come up with at the moment: "Dad is massaging Mom's butt to keep it from sagging. Butts sag as you grow older, you know."

That causes our dad to break out in uncontrollable laughter. Mom loses any remaining composure left in her; she guffaws and buries her face in Dad's furry chest in utter embarrassment. I roll my eyes as my sisters and I witness this, and for a moment there, I worry that Dad's towel would come loose and drop to the floor as he laughs his heart out. "Don't feel bad. Once you get used to seeing them this way, it won't be as gross as it seems," I tell my sisters.

It takes Mom and Dad almost a minute to recover from embarrassment and amusement, and then Mom breaks away from their embrace. She turns around and tells us, "Okay, girls, show's over." She approaches us near the door and kneels in front of Carrie. "Why don't you go on, get breakfast, and let your dad and I get dressed? Why are you up earlier than usual, by the way?" Mom asks.

Liv answers, "Well, we woke up early coz we're excited about the housewarming party at Aunt Thea's. That's today isn't it? Isn't it, Mom? Is everyone coming? Will Grandpa Lance be there? How about Dana and Andy? Are Uncle John and Aunt Lyla bringing them along?" Liv shot one question after another like firing a machine gun at our mom.

"Whoa! Hold your horses, Livvy dear!" Mom exclaims. "And yes, the housewarming is today at noon, and almost everyone will be there. Aunt Sara can't make it coz she's busy with work at Central City."

"That's so cool! Can't wait!" Liv responds with excitement, rubbing her palms together.

"All right, that's enough. Go, have breakfast, girls. We'll be downstairs with you shortly," Dad says.

"For some reason I doubt that," I mutter under my breath, but my mom hears me loud and clear. "Emily?!" she says with that stern look of disapproval on her face. Seriously, our mother has the sonar abilities of a bat.

Just as Mom leads us out of the room, the boys come in.

"Warning," I whisper to Stephen as we pass each other. "The fluff really is back. Totally." Stephen just smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

TJ:

"Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Dad!" I greet our parents with a smile on my face.

"Good morning, buddy!" Dad says to me. He scoops me up into his arms. I just love it when Dad suddenly picks me up like that. His arms are so strong. Someday I'm going to have big, strong limbs like him, and I'm gonna hug him like a great big bear.

"Good morning, Stephen," Dad greets my brother, who was holding my smaller hand in his just a second ago.

"Morning, Dad!" Stephen greets back as Dad claps him on the back.

Stephen hands the morning paper and a package to our dad.

Stephen:

"What's this?" Dad asks.

"I don't know. A courier delivered it a while ago. I saw the truck drive up just outside the front door. Lucia received it and asked me to give it to you."

"I see. Thanks, son," Dad says. He puts TJ down. My little brother climbs onto the king-sized bed and begins to use it as a trampoline.

Dad tears open the package with his bare hands as he walks towards the window where the morning light is shining through in order to get a better look at its contents. From where I am standing, I can see that the package contains documents. Dad begins to scan through the papers, and an ugly frown begins to form on his face. Whatever is in those documents is clearly upsetting him. Fast. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. And then he turns his back against me and says, "Stephen, kindly see that your brother and sisters start with breakfast now. Lucia can help you. Your Mom and I just have something important to talk about. Okay?"

Just by the look on my dad's face, and the fact that he's doing that thing again with the fingers of his clenched fist, I sense trouble. I smell something fishy, but I just nod and say, "Okay. See you later, Dad."

Just as TJ and I turn to leave the room, Mom returns.

Felicity:

"Hey," Oliver says to me. He has this troubled look on his face.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask.

"This package arrived just now."

"Who from?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

"Try me."

"It's from a local law firm... representing Helena Bertinelli." Oliver pauses. "Apparently, she intends to sue QC for unlawful termination of her employment contract, and she intends to claim damages. They want to set a meeting to talk about an amicable settlement."

"What?! You're kidding!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Let me see that." I grab the documents from my husband's hand and look them over. It's true. She is suing the company. Our company. "That woman has some nerve! She's the one who tries to seduce her boss's husband, yet she has the gall to sue and claim damages? Unbelievable!" I yell in anger and disgust.

"Calm down, honey," Oliver says. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical and legal solution to this. HRD cleared her termination and did all the necessary paperwork. We can fix this," my husband assures me.

"I do hope so, Mr. CEO," I respond in exasperation. "I just can't help think that there's more to this than just a labor issue. Something's not right."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, I can understand why and how a desperate, shrewd woman like Helena would want to take advantage of her getting fired to collect money from a billion-dollar company. What I don't get is this: Why would she ask her lawyers to have the legal papers sent to our home? Look." I show Oliver the name and address on the package. "This package is addressed to you, Oliver Jonas Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated. But the address below your name is the address of the Queen Mansion. Helena is making a statement. This is personal to her."

Oliver is speechless for a while, thinking about what I had just said. Seconds later, he speaks. "I get what you mean. I think it's best if we ask Tommy to handle this matter on our behalf. If this is a malicious attack against our family, we need someone we can trust. QC's legal department might not be able to handle this case discreetly, and I don't want any sensitive information leaking to the press."

"I agree. I trust Tommy," I affirm my husband's wise decision.

Oliver must have seen the change in the expression on my face because he comes closer and touches my shoulder tenderly, reassuringly. "Don't worry, baby. Everything will be all right. We'll get through this together, like we always do."

"I know. I love you. And I trust you," I say, my voice beginning to crack. "But I don't trust Helena Bertinelli. She has something up her sleeve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the suspense begins to build up. I hope that in the last seven to eight chapters I've been able to establish the kind of relationship that Oliver and Felicity have in this AU, as well as the kind of relationships the Queen family has. Now we're ready for some suspense, mystery, and action. Comments are welcome and appreciated. Thank you!


	10. Secretary, Snatcher, and a Spastic Stomach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens have interesting conversations over lunch with family and friends, as Felicity struggles with an upset stomach.

Stephen:

We arrived at Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy's new apartment in downtown Starling about an hour ago. We were the last ones to arrive because Mom had unexpectedly spent quite some time in the bathroom, agonizing over what she said was an upset stomach. The girls had been upset that they had to wait for thirty long minutes. Emily had been frowning in silence, while Liv had successfully annoyed Dad by coming in and out of their room every five minutes with her "Aren't we going yet?" or "What's taking so long?" lines. Carrie had been too bored to say anything, preferring instead to drape her lazy arms around Dad's neck as he carried her close to his chest. By the time Mom came down the stairs, she had looked totally exhausted, with droplets of cold sweat all over her forehead and her neck.

"You okay?" Dad asked her as we all marched out of the front door to get into the van.

"I think I will be," Mom said after a deep sigh. "Let's just go."

So here we are, enjoying the company of family and friends after a hearty lunch. Grandpa Quentin is here. He is having a heated argument with his son-in-law, Uncle Tommy, over politics in Starling City at the bar. Aunt Lyla and our mom are seated at the dining table discussing new recipes and sharing them with Aunt Thea, the rookie wife in the group. Dad, Uncle Roy, and Uncle John are in the living room discussing the latest baseball and basketball statistics over cups of brewed coffee. The twins are playing video games with Dana and Andy in front of the giant LED TV in the den.

I like our aunt's new place. It's a perfect replica of the modern, minimalist interior design showroom that Aunt Thea had admired in an architectural magazine that my dad had given her when she told him that she and Uncle Roy had decided to get their own place instead of living with us at the mansion. (I can understand why. They preferred to live in downtown Starling not just because it's nearer the precinct where Uncle Roy worked, but also because they wouldn't be getting any privacy and peace-and-quiet if they were living in a place with five kids, no matter how huge the Queen mansion is.) They had closed the deal and signed a lease contract on the apartment even before their wedding, and had hired a contractor to begin renovations so that everything would be ready by the time they got back from their honeymoon in Hawaii.

But the lovely new apartment is not the highlight of my day. It's the cute, brown-haired 14-year-old girl chatting with my sister Emily at the foot of the stairs that I can't take my eyes off of. Katie is here by herself. Her parents have an important business deal going on in another part of town and can't join us. But I'm glad she's here. Even if she's not talking with me. Not yet, at least. I'm content just sitting in my corner about ten feet away, watching hazel eyes surrounded by flattering lashes sparkle as she steals seemingly random glances at me in between dialogues with my sister. She has the most amazing smile. The way she twirls the ends of her auburn locks while she giggles and laughs over Emily's funny jokes, or rubs her palms together while she gasps in excitement during girl talk... Ugh! Anyone would be crazy not to find this girl awesomely cool!

I notice my sister pointing at me and whispering something to Katie's ear. That makes me nervous. I wonder what she's telling Katie about me. Not long after, both girls stand up and start walking towards me.

"Hey, Stephen," Emily says to me. "It turns out Katie here is a big fan of the NBA. Told her you play in the varsity basketball team of our school. She's raving about six-foot-tall guys in jerseys whom I know absolutely nothing about. So, I figured she might be better off talking with you instead of me. Besides, I think I'm going for another serving of Aunt Lyla's blueberry cheesecake. Be nice, Stephen. Try not to bore our friend here." And just like that, my sister sets us up and walks away. To my delight. I just love Emily so much.

Emily:

I walk away from Katie and Stephen and head straight to the dining area where Mom, Aunt Thea, and Aunt Lyla are. I get a slice of cheesecake and then take a seat on one of the bar stools by the kitchen counter. I turn to see how my brother is faring in winning over his latest crush, and I see he's doing quite well. They're both smiling at each other while chatting about the latest NBA all-stars. The next thing I know, Stephen takes his phone out of his pocket and keys in a number. Presumably it's Katie's. I hope. This makes me smile. I am certainly learning to like the self-designated role as my older brother's matchmaker.

My attention is now drawn by the women's conversation at the dinner table.

"So, Thea, how's married life?" I overhear Aunt Lyla ask.

"Better than expected," Aunt Thea replies with a naughty look on her face.

"Oh, really? And what makes you say that?" Aunt Lyla asks again, trying to fish for details.

"Well... that's for me to know and for you to wonder about," is Aunt Thea's witty response.

"I don't have to wonder, girl. I know what it's like. I'm almost eight years ahead of you. Remember?" Aunt Lyla remarks even more cleverly, raising her left hand and wiggling her ring finger. "And I assure you... it won't always be a bed of roses, especially when the honeymoon stage fades, and then you wake up realizing you married a perfectly flawed individual. Right, Felicity?"

The two women laugh, but there is no immediate response from my mom, who only smiles and nods.

"What's the matter, sis? Are you okay? You've been awfully quiet," Aunt Thea asks, casting a concerned look at my mom.

Mom shrugs her shoulders as she straightens up in her chair. "I haven't been feeling well since this morning. Stomach upset. Must be something I ate for breakfast... though... I didn't eat anything different from what everyone else ate."

"Maybe it's just indigestion," Aunt Lyla comments.

"I don't know. It feels like acid reflux... and stomach cramps that radiates around my lower back and pelvis. It's like when you have a bad case of diarrhea. Thing is... I spent thirty minutes in the bathroom... but... nothing... except painful spasms. I didn't think I'd make it out of there," Mom explains.

"That explains why you haven't eaten much. You usually devour the salad, pasta, and dessert!" Aunt Lyla teases, chuckling under her breath.

"I'm just glad you made it," Aunt Thea says, tapping my mom's hand which was resting on the table. "You know, I really love our new place, and I don't plan on having another housewarming party in the near future. Are you sure you'll be okay? I think I have something for an upset stomach. Hot tea, maybe?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine. I think I'll just give my tummy a break," Mom replies.

As perceptive and intuitive as she is, Aunt Thea doesn't seem satisfied with my mom's coy response, so she decides to probe deeper and pursue a hunch. "Are you sure this is just about a stomach upset, Felicity? Or is there something else upsetting you?" She has really come to know my mother quite well these past few years. In fact, I'd like to think they've become very close friends, close enough for her to read my mom's nonverbal language.

Mom drums her fingers on the table and lowers her gaze. After a few seconds of wishing that the two pairs of searching eyes would stop staring at her, Mom gives up. "Remember my secretary that you helped Oliver fire some weeks ago, Thea?"

Aunt Thea's eyes narrow as she frowns. "Of course! Bertinelli, right? That brunette who tried to seduce my brother in the elevator?"

"That's the one," Mom replies.

"What about her?" Aunt Thea asks. She leans forward and rests her chin on the palm of a hand, with her elbow on the table.

"We received documents from her lawyers today. She suing Oliver and QC and claiming damages for unlawful termination. She's asking for a meeting to settle things."

"What?! Unbelievable!" Aunt Thea replies with a perceptibly louder tone of voice that makes every other head in the apartment turn in her direction.

"That's exactly what I said when Oliver showed me the documents," Mom says.

"She has some nerve!" Aunt Thea adds. "All the paperwork for that termination was clean. She broke the company's code of ethics, and since she hasn't reached tenure yet, QC isn't obliged to-"

"That's what Oliver was telling me, but I don't really trust her, Thea. I think there's more to this complaint than meets the eye. You see, she's going after the company, but she had the documents mailed to our home. Our home," Mom explains.

"That is strange," Aunt Lyla remarks with a frown forming on her face. "Does John know about this?"

"I think Oliver's told him most of it before we left to come here," Mom answers Aunt Lyla. And then she turns to Aunt Thea. "I think this is something personal to her. I mean, why would Helena Bertinelli have the documents delivered to our home if she's just after legal claims from the company? I'm a bit wary that she might hurt my family just because she has a grudge against QC for firing her. Your brother wants to speak to Tommy about it," Mom explains further.

Aunt Thea takes a sip of red wine before she continues, "That's probably a good idea. QC's legal department usually handles stuff like this for the company. But then again, this particular case involves the CEO and his wife, who happens to be the President of the Board. It's better if a trusted private attorney handles a sensitive case like this. The press would have a heyday if this leaks out prematurely."

Stephen:

Emily swallows the last bite of her cheesecake and decides to come back and snatch her newest favorite girl friend away from me. I don't mind. I've already got her number. I smile as I watch her and Katie disappear into the balcony to chat some more. I decide to join the big guys in the living room just as Grandpa Quentin and Uncle Tommy also move from the bar to join them. It seems they're no longer talking about sports.

"Harper! You better get ready to go. Your shift starts in about an hour, right?" Grandpa calls his attention.

"What? Leaving your own housewarming party so soon?" my dad asks Uncle Roy.

"Yeah, patrol starts in an hour. See, that's why this had to be a lunch thing. I have a twenty-four hour shift today. We're on alert for the next one or two weeks," Uncle Roy says.

"What's up in Starling City in the next week or so? I haven't been noticing an increase in the crime rate lately," Uncle Tommy asks curiously.

This time it's Grandpa who offers an explanation, and it puts all the guys on edge. Just a little bit.

"The Cradle Snatcher," Grandpa begins to explain. "We're on red alert, looking out for child abductions in the city. This guy - for now, we're still working with the assumption that it's a guy who's working alone - has been responsible for kidnapping children in major cities up and down the West Coast. The kids turn up dead in the outskirts of the cities a month or less later. And this happens once every year. At the close of spring. Always at the end of April or early May."

"This is the first time I've heard about this... Cradle Snatcher... since I've been in Starling's legal system. When did these annual abductions start?" Uncle Tommy asks again.

"If the FBI's statistics are correct, last year's victim was the sixth. And the only reason why Starling has never heard of this notorious serial kidnapper-murderer is because no one from our city has been abducted so far. Our previous and present mayors have strictly put this story on news blackout all this time to prevent people from panicking or freaking out," Grandpa clarifies.

"But why is the SCPD on alert this time?" Dad asks, now just as curious as Uncle Tommy.

"That's because last year's victim was from Central City," Uncle Roy clarifies further. The Cradle Snatcher's first abduction was in San Diego six years ago. He took a four-year-old girl in broad daylight in the San Diego Zoo without her mother noticing anything. His next victims were from Los Angeles, San Jose, San Francisco, Coast City, and just last year-"

"Central City," Uncle John finishes Uncle Roy's sentence for him. "The Snatcher seems to be moving north."

"You got that right," Grandpa remarks. "That's why we're on high alert."

"I remember Sara was working that case around this time last year in Central City," Uncle Tommy says.

"And that's why Harper and I better get going. It's going to be a long night for this cop right here," Grandpa says, clapping Uncle Roy's back. Grandpa starts to walk towards the apartment's front door while Uncle Roy kisses Aunt Thea and says goodbye to everyone.

"Oh, and gentlemen," Grandpa adds, turning back as he turns the door knob to leave, "Let me give you one piece of sound advice. I don't want to scare you or anything, but it would be to your families' best interests if you could be extra careful with your kids in the next week or so. You couldn't be too careful when there's even the remotest possibility of a serial kidnapper on the loose anywhere near our city."

"Sure, Dad," my Dad replies politely and sincerely. Uncle John nods his head in the affirmative as well.

Felicity:

It's been three days since the housewarming at Thea's, but my stomach cramps still won't leave me alone. It's like it has decided to be my latest best friend - worst friend, rather - to my dismay. At different times of the day, I'd have to go to the bathroom and spend ten minutes or so sitting on the toilet, but... nothing. There's just this terrible spasm in my lower abdomen that rages like a tempest and then wanes as if it were only a breeze after a drizzle. I haven't been getting any sleep because the spasms are worse in the middle of the night. As it is now.

"Honey? Are you okay in there?" Oliver knocks on the bathroom door and asks softly.

"I wouldn't be okay if I'm in here at three in the morning, would I?" I reply irritably.

"Chill. I'm just asking because I care. You know that, right?" my husband responds patiently, and I start to feel guilty about being so cross. After all, this isn't his fault.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," I call out apologetically. "It's just that this has been giving me a hard time."

"Felicity, please go see Dr. Snow at the QC infirmary tomorrow. Okay? I'm getting worried," Oliver says. He says it like a request.

"Oh, come on. You think it's serious? I don't think this is that serious. Maybe I've just caught a gastrointestinal virus or something. But then again, you're still going to make me go see a doctor because the mere mention of a virus, a bacterium, or even just a harmless germ makes you think that my spleen-less-ness is going to get me into serious trouble again."

"Fe-li-ci-ty..." Oliver interrupts my rambling with that tone of voice that tells me his request has just become an order. "Go see Dr. Snow today. Okay?"

"Okay," I say in absolute surrender. I may win some battles, but my husband always wins the war.

And then I remember...

"But, Oliver, I can't see Dr. Snow today. We have this arbitration meeting with Bertinelli's lawyers today, right?" I say, trying to ease my way out of the mandatory medical check-up.

"You don't have to be there. Tommy and I can handle it."

"But I have to be there. In fact, I want to be there! I want to look that woman in the eye and-"

"All right. All right. You can join us for the meeting and then go, see Dr. Snow after. She'll still be in the infirmary by the time the meeting is over," my husband acquiesces to a compromise. "Aren't you done yet, honey? You've been in there quite a while."

Nothing has happened in the last ten minutes or so, except that the spasms have stopped by now, so I stand up and pull my underwear and pajamas back up. I open the door to see my husband leaning against the door frame with one arm stretched out.

"Please, see the doctor tomorrow, honey. Please?" he pleads this time.

"I will," I say with a sincere smile. I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him playfully, biting his lower lip. Then without warning, I tease him by poking at his ticklish side near his armpit followed by a slap on his butt.

"Hey!" he yells (at three o'clock in the morning).

I side-step and attempt to run back to the bedroom, but my husband's track star reflexes get the better of me. I don't make it two or three feet past my husband before he grabs me by the waist and flips me over his right shoulder.

"Hey! Put me down! Put me down, Mr. Queen, or I'll-"

"Or you'll what?" my husband dares, knowing there's absolutely nothing I can do to scare him into letting me go. He chuckles because he is absolutely enjoying this.

Right now the black-and-grey stripes of the back side of my husband's boxers are the only things I can see in front of me. (But of course, the view is upside down.) My hair is hanging loosely, brushing against his legs and swaying to and fro as he takes one step after another through the walk-in closet and into our bedroom. When he reaches the foot of our bed, he releases me and lets me flop onto the mattress like a rag doll. A rag doll giggling with glee.

"You. Are going. To see. The doctor. Later. Today. Whether you like it. Or not. Understood?" My husband says this one phrase at a time, in a commanding yet teasing tone of voice, as he crawls onto the bed like a canopy of massively toned muscles on top of me.

"Yes, Sir!" I answer. It's all my lips could say because he cuts me short with an irresistible kiss. That leads into... well... We are a happily married couple.

But with lack of sleep, we are both headed for trouble at that meeting with Bertinelli in the afternoon. We might not even make it to the movie night we promised to take the kids to. Ugh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may read like it's just a mere filler, but it actually vitally sets up the rest of the story and develops the other characters. There are details here that you need to remember in order to understand how the plot thickens and the conflicts emerge. The next chapter is really the game changer.
> 
> What do you think is wrong with Felicity?  
> How do you think the Helena issue will go?  
> Who is this Cradle Snatcher, and will he cross paths with the Queens?  
> Comments and reviews are welcome, as always. I'd love to know what you think of the story so far.


	11. Foul Plays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena Bertinelli threatens the Queens' company and family, but that won't be the worst of their troubles. This chapter is where the suspense really begins to build and the plot thickens.

Oliver:

"Hold all calls between 3:00 and 4:00, Ms. Fei. I don't want any interruptions during this afternoon's meeting. That goes for Mrs. Queen as well," I instruct the petite, young Chinese woman who is my secretary.

"Yes, Mr. Queen," she answers, as I walk past her desk, my son Stephen following close behind me.

"Oh, and please call the infirmary on the third floor and get Mrs. Queen an appointment with Dr. Snow at 4:00," I add.

I push the glass door ready to walk into my office when Stephen asks, "How long is this meeting going to take, Dad? And how long will Mom be at the infirmary? Star Wars Episode 7starts at 5:45 at the theater. Can we make it? Coz if we don't, we're going to have to wait until 8:50 for the next show to run, and that'll be way past the kids' bedtime."

"We'll make it, son," I answer him with a smile. And confidently, too.

When Roy and my father-in-law left the housewarming party three days ago, Thea and I pulled Tommy aside and consulted him about our problem with Helena Bertinelli's labor complaint. After quite a lengthy discussion, I became better educated about the labor laws of the state of California. Tommy's explanations and answers to my inquiries impressed me a lot. Thea and I didn't have to twist his arm to get him to agree to represent me and the company during the arbitration meeting with Bertinelli's lawyers, and even in court, that is, if this complaint somehow evolves into a full-blown legal case – which, Tommy assured me, is highly unlikely. Even after he had reviewed all the paperwork and the evidence we had sent over the next day, Tommy told me over the phone that the woman has absolutely no grounds to file a complaint against me or QC for wrongful termination. With my very own best friend – who is an accomplished and dependable lawyer in his own right – as our legal counselor, I'd become increasingly confident that this labor complaint doesn't hold water at all.

Felicity is not as confident, however. She says she has this inexplicable feeling in her gut that we're missing something. No matter how Tommy assures and reassures her that everything will work out fine, and that there is nothing to be anxious about, she just couldn't shake off that feeling.

"I believe you, Tommy," Felicity said to him yesterday. "As far as the legal aspect is concerned, I'm sure you know what you're talking about. But can you guarantee that there will be no non-legal complications? I'm just worried that... Well, I don't trust that woman. And I just want to be sure that my family is safe." Whatever it is that's bothering my wife, it sure isn't bothering me. And I won't let it. The company had done nothing wrong. I had done nothing wrong.

Emily:

Mom and I march into Dad's office after saying hello to Ms. Fei, who greets back with a smile and a wave.

"Carrie and the twins are already settled in day care downstairs. I could only sign them up for about an hour because child care service closes at 4:00," Mom announces as she and I enter Dad's office.

"The meeting shouldn't take us more than an hour, so you can pick them up just in time. But just in case it does, we can just ask Stephen to go fetch the kids," Dad responds, noticing the worried look on my mom's face. He knows her all too well, so he places his hands on her shoulders and adds, "Don't worry, honey. Everything will be fine. I don't even think you or I are going to have to say anything. Tommy agreed to do all the talking. If all goes well, and I know they will," Dad looks at her reassuringly, "you can go see Dr. Snow afterwards, come back before 5:00, and we could all be out of here in time for family movie night." Dad smiles and kisses her forehead.

"Great!" I answer, interrupting their dialogue. "We can't wait to watch Episode 7. Right, Stephen?"

My brother doesn't answer. Strange. He's the one who helped me talk my parents into squeezing this family movie date into their schedule even if they had said they were going to have an important meeting today and a doctor's appointment. (They had the meeting moved down to 3:00 instead of the original 4:00 appointment.) When I look at him sitting on the couch, I find him engrossed in something in his tablet. So I pranced across the office lounge and sat beside him.

"I knew it!" I say with a mischievous grin on my face. "You're chatting with Katie, aren't you?"

"Hey! Mind your own business, Ems. Don't you have other things you can do?" Stephen is totally irritated and annoyed at me. He wards off my arm with his hand when I try to hold one side of the tablet to get a better look at the screen.

"Stephen, they call it social networking so that you can actually socialize. Socialize? You know, with more than one person? Not just with one adorable brunette that has you tied up in knots!" I tease, and for a moment there Mom and Dad glance in our direction and then look at each other, chuckling.

"Quit it, Emily! And I mean it," Stephen says to me angrily.

Before I could get another naughty line out of my mouth, Ms. Fei peeks into the office and announces the arrival of some very important people – the ones our parents are expecting to meet with. "Mr. Queen, Ms. Bertinelli and her lawyer have arrived."

"Please show them in... in a minute. Thank you," Dad answers.

"Certainly, sir," Ms. Fei acknowledges and then disappears into the waiting area.

Mom crosses her arms in front of her chest and tells Dad with narrowed eyes, "She's bold. Brazen and bold. I thought only her lawyer or lawyers would show up. I never thought she would set foot in QC again after what she'd done."

"Don't let her get to you. She can try to unnerve you... or me... or both of us. But that's all she can do – try," Dad tells Mom. His hand reaches up to touch her shoulder, and then it slides down to grip her arm in a loving, comforting manner. "If you ever get anxious during the meeting, look at me. Don't look at her... or her intimidating lawyer."

"Okay," Mom says calmly, as she beams at him with a smile.

Mom walks over to the couch where Stephen and I are. "Kids, please be as quiet and well-behaved as you possibly can. You are not to go into the conference room. Do you understand? This meeting is very important to the company... and to Mom and Dad. So, please try your very best not to disturb us. Unless, of course, it's an emergency."

"Sure thing, Mom," I respond. Stephen? He looked like he didn't hear a word of what Mom had just said. But he nods his head twice anyhow without taking his eyes off his tablet.

Meanwhile, Ms. Fei pushes the glass door open, and a sophisticated-looking woman with porcelain white skin walks in. The sleeveless blouse and short, pencil skirt she is wearing are as black as her long, straight, smoothly flowing hair. A short, bald man dressed in an expensive-looking suit is following closely behind her. His tinted signature spectacles keeps awkwardly sliding down the bridge of his nose, so he repeatedly wrinkles his nose to prevent his glasses from falling, without actually using his hands that are clutching an attaché case and a file folder.

The two guests and my parents move to the adjoining conference room and are soon joined by Uncle Tommy, who half-sprints into the meeting, apologetic for being late because of the unexpected delay in the decision of the jury in the court hearing he had just come from. Ms. Fei closes the sliding glass doors of the conference room, goes back to her desk, and resumes whatever she was working on when the guests arrived.

Oliver:

After brief introductions, I offer seats to everyone. I sit between Tommy and Felicity on one side of the conference table while Helena Bertinelli and her lawyer, a certain Mr. Capella, sit right across us on the other side. Right away, Helena's piercing gaze is fixed on me. She has this expression on her face that is somewhere between a sarcastic smile and a spark of scorn. I don't know why, but it makes me slightly uncomfortable. So, I look away. I clear my throat and motion Tommy to start the proceedings.

"Well, good afternoon ladies, gentlemen," Tommy begins. "Since my fellow counselor here and his client initiated this meeting, then I suppose it's only proper that you be given the chance to speak first." His eyebrows are raised, signaling Capella to start talking in behalf of his client.

"Thank you, Mr. Merlyn. It's Merlyn, correct?" Capella asks and then pauses. After Tommy acknowledges him, he continues, "My client and I will go straight to the point. Ms. Bertinelli is filing a complaint against CEO Oliver Queen and Queen Consolidated because she believes that she was unjustly terminated over an incident that she was wrongfully accused of. We are prepared to take this complaint to the department of labor if you refuse an amicable settlement."

"A settlement that requires a handsome sum of money, I suppose?" Tommy asks, testing the waters.

"Of course," the quirky attorney replies. "What was done to my client was not only humiliating; it was absolutely unjust."

"Mr. Capella, I'm sure you are aware of the legal implications of 'at will' employment, which is the norm under California law. Any employee – even a good employee – can be terminated for any reason, unless of course there are illegal factors or other reasons impermissible by law," Tommy clarifies. "Queen Consolidated did not terminate Ms. Bertinelli because of physical or mental disability, racial or gender bias, or any other trivial factor. She was fired because of serious, gross misconduct."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Merlyn, my client vehemently opposes the charge of serious, gross misconduct," Capella begins his argument. "Ms. Bertinelli here claims that if there was any flagrant, reprehensible behavior displayed prior to her unjust termination, it was certainly not by her but by Mr. Queen."

Felicity:

"Excuse me?" Oliver interrupts the dialogue of the two lawyers. He and Tommy had identical expressions of shock on their faces. Even I couldn't believe my ears.

"Wait a minute," Tommy responds. "Are you telling us that your client-"

"My client claims that she had been subjected to sexual harassment in the form of verbal innuendos and malicious touching by your client, Mr. Oliver Queen, the CEO of this prestigious company, ever since she began working as Mrs. Queen's secretary less than a year ago," Mr. Capella argues.

"What?!" Oliver shouts as the palm of his hand landed forcefully on the conference table. "No such thing ever happened!" he yells.

"Oliver," Tommy says as he places a firm grip on Oliver's shoulder, "let me handle this."

"Mr. Merlyn, my client maintains that she did not throw herself at your client in that elevator. He held her by her shoulders and pulled her into him maliciously, just like the other times when he'd harass my client using his position as the top boss in this company to take advantage of her," Capella continues with their false accusations.

I feel my blood begin to boil and rush from my feet to my head. I turn to look at Helena Bertinelli as my jaw clenches and my eyes narrow in disbelief and suspicion. I'm instantly repulsed by the smirk on her face, as she stares scornfully at my husband, savoring every second of humiliation and deception that she and her gullible lawyer were subjecting him to.

I couldn't help what suddenly came out of my mouth. "You're a liar and you know it," I interject with a firm, clear and audible tone of voice. For some reason, neither Oliver nor Tommy is keeping me from giving Bertinelli and Capella a piece of my mind. "My husband is a decent man and a faithful husband. How dare you walk in here and falsely accuse him of doing you wrong, when you and I both know that it was you... all along... who's been trying to seduce my husband and take advantage of him for selfish gain. You're obviously trying to turn things around, making yourself look like the helpless victim, but you won't get away with this. This is crazy. You're crazy!"

I am absolutely furious now, but I'm still trying to maintain composure. I could feel my stomach cramping again, perhaps because of the tension in the room, but I don't let it bother me.

"Oh, I assure you, Mrs. Queen. My client knows exactly what she is talking about," Capella argues with a mocking tone of voice that is matched with a faint chuckle. "You see, Ms. Bertinelli here had been intending to resign a month before the elevator incident because her work environment had become so intolerable that she had felt forced to quit. I'm sure Atty. Merlyn is aware that under California labor laws there is such a thing as 'constructive termination,' when an employee is forced to quit due to harassment or intolerable work conditions. This is the same as involuntary termination or firing, which gives rise to a claim for wrongful termination."

"I am well aware of what constructive termination is, Atty. Capella," Tommy responds. "But that is not applicable in this case because my client has done nothing wrong. It's your client's word against his."

"Well, that isyourinterpretation of the law, Mr. Merlyn," Capella remarks slyly. "Whatever the case may be, Ms. Bertinelli could even proceed legally down a different yet related legal path, like that of a whistle blower. She was contemplating on either resigning or reporting this case of sexual harassment against Mr. Queen to the Labor Board, and she has reason to believe that her characteristically unprofessional superiors, including the head of HRD, who happens to be Mr. Queen's sister, intentionally got rid of her before she could file the complaint with the O.S.H.A."

"Superiors? Are you implying that Ms. Queen and Mrs. Queen-"

Tommy was rudely interrupted by the small, bald lawyer that has managed to infuriate me gradually since he stepped into the conference room. "Let's just say that Ms. Queen and Mrs. Queen might find it difficult to deny that they had known about my client's predicament, since they, of all people, should be well-versed with Mr. Queen's infamous deportment towards the female kind – something that even the general public could attest to."

"That's enough! You are way out of line, counselor," Tommy retorts indignantly. "You come waltzing in here with your client to convince us to settle amicably with you, but all you have done is to shift the burden of blame spitefully and insult my clients with hardly any concrete evidence other than your client's lies and baseless claims."

"Evidence?" Helena Bertinelli suddenly speaks. The sleekness of her voice and the shrewd confidence in her eyes send shivers down my spine. I knew she couldn't be trusted, but I didn't know she could be this ruthless. "My lawyer is prepared to take you to court if you're not willing to settle amicably. And trust me, when Starling City witnesses the trial and hears my personal testimony, no one will be interested in evidence."

Silence settles for a few seconds, until Capella breaks it. "You're right, Mr. Merlyn. It's my word against your client's, that is, if he's man enough to take the witness stand and testify," he challenges us. "Let Ms. Bertinelli recover lost wages and benefits over the last couple of months, and pay a million dollars in damages for emotional distress due to wrongful termination. I advise you to settle now. Punitive damages will be higher when we take this to court. And, I'm sure I don't need to reiterate what is at stake here for your clients, their company, and their family."

Oliver:

"How could this be happening?" I think to myself as I fidget in my seat. I had done nothing wrong, and yet here are two of the most deceitful human beings in Starling City threatening me, my company, and my family with lies. Constructive termination? Whistle blowing? I may not be a lawyer, but something inside me tells me that Helena Bertinelli and her lawyer's arguments are nothing but rubbish. It's frightening to think that an ugly legal battle could ruin my good name, my company's reputation, and my family's security, but I also cannot and will not allow them to get away with blackmail and deception.

I turn to look at Felicity and our eyes lock onto each other's. There is a faint smile on her face. Her eyes are pooling with tears, but they draw me in, assuring me that she's with me in this all the way. She slowly blinks, and as her eyes open again, she nods in affirmation. I know what she wants us to do. So, with courage and steadfast calmness, I look at Tommy and shake my head once.

"No deal," Tommy says to Capella. "The Queens will not be threatened into settling amicably, especially when they are in the right. If it's a legal battle you want, we are prepared to argue and prove that your labor complaint has absolutely no grounds, and that your sexual harassment charge is nothing but the fabrication of a spiteful woman out to extort money from respectable people like my clients and their company... because that's exactly what this is all about. Blackmail."

"All right, so be it. We are done here, Ms. Bertinelli," the cunning lawyer says as he stands and motions his client to follow him. He and his client say their goodbyes in a civil manner and leave without so much as a thank you for taking up our time or an apology for the false accusations and insults they had hurled at us.

I don't know, but... I am not the least bit threatened or troubled by what had just happened. Sure, a court case would have damaging effects on the company and on my family, but I firmly believe that truth will triumph in the end. I have to believe it. I do. If I let myself cower in fear and give in to intimidation, how would I be able to face my wife and my children? What example of a man would I give to Stephen? I know I had just made a tough call, but it is the right decision because whatever happens, I'd walk away with my integrity intact.

I also know that my wife would be with me and behind me in this... all the way. The look in her eyes moments ago was a promise that I can keep holding on to. I saw in her eyes that she trusts me one hundred percent. She no longer has doubts about my fidelity and my integrity, and that meant the world to me at such a time as this. Felicity's faith is strong, and that has strengthened mine ever since the day I met her at the park more than five years ago. I've been blessed with a wonderful wife and partner who'll be with me through thick and thin.

With that thought, I stand up and reach out to embrace Felicity. "Thank you for trusting me," I whisper in her ear. "It means a lot."

"I love you, Oliver," she whispers back. "We will get through this...together."

As soon as we break the embrace, I cup her face in my hands and kiss my wife. The kiss is a paradox. It feels both tranquil and turbulent. Tranquil, because I want to reassure Felicity that she can trust me and that everything will be all right. Turbulent, because I want to express how strongly I appreciate her standing by me all these years despite my imperfections and my regretful past. Oliver Queen is a changed man, thanks to Felicity Smoak Queen. The emotions flooding my soul at this very moment are a mixture of peace and fervor, as I hold her beautiful face in my hands, feeling the softness of her lips on mine.

Tommy clears his throat a little too loudly to get our attention and make us break the kiss. "I'm sorry to interrupt this wonderful display of affection, but we do have to talk about how you would like to approach this situation."

"Oh, yeah," I respond. "What do you suggest we do now?" I ask my trusted friend and counselor.

"Well, we wait for them to file a case. Hopefully, they change their minds and decide that they really don't stand a chance against truth. But, judging by the way those shady characters behaved this afternoon... I don't think they're going to back down. In the meantime, we gather evidence to disprove their allegations," Tommy explains.

"Okay," I reply, nodding my head in agreement. "What evidences do you need?"

"Since Bertinelli never actually got to file a resignation letter to support a constructive termination claim, and I doubt if she ever got to file a formal complaint of harassment against you with the O.S.H.A., we don't really have a lot of documentary evidence to go on... except, of course, all the paperwork that your HRD and legal departments put together when you terminated her. We will need all that," Tommy answers.

"Sure, no problem. I'll have Thea send the files over to your office. Anything else?" I ask further.

Tommy pauses to think for a moment, and then he asks, "Security camera footage from the elevator that you and Bertinelli were on can really provide solid evidence that the woman is lying. That'd be great to have as evidence. Can you send that over too?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Felicity speaks. "They were on the private elevator that only Oliver and I... and sometimes our kids... and John Diggle... use in this building. That's the only elevator that doesn't have a security camera." I hang my head in regret as I recall that single moment of indiscretion that led to all the trouble we are facing now.

"That's too bad," Tommy remarks. Disappointment is evident in his voice. "With that piece of evidence alone, we could have the entire case dismissed as having no merit whatsoever. Well then, we'll have to gather other evidence against Bertinelli to counter her testimony."

"Like what?" I ask.

"I can have our investigative team of research partners in the firm work on that. They'll have to dig into Bertinelli's background and find anything that would discredit her character and her testimony," Tommy answers.

"In other words, things could get ugly," Felicity says.

"Yup," Tommy replies, "but she's asking for it. I do hope that woman would think again before she does anything she'll regret."

"Somehow I doubt she's the kind of woman who's capable of thinking and regretting her actions. I get the impression that she's cold and calculating," Felicity comments, and I agree with her thoughts.

Tommy steps forward and gives me a friendly hug. He wishes me well and says, "I've got to get going. Sara and I have dinner plans at Central City, and it's a long drive. I'll have my staff at the law firm get in touch with you as soon as we hear from Capella," he says to me. Tommy hugs Felicity and says goodbye to her also, and then he walks out of the conference room and my office and disappears into the hallway.

Felicity and I follow him out of the conference room and into my office, hand in hand. Emily and Stephen are still there, tinkering with their tablets.

"Why don't you go down and see Dr. Snow now, honey?" I prompt my wife. "It's almost 4:00. I had Ms. Fei get you an appointment at the infirmary."

"Okay, but someone's got to get the kids from day care," Felicity reminds me.

"Oh, right. Stephen?" I call out my son's name. "Stephen, can you please go get Carrie and the twins from day care? It's on the ground floor at the south wing of the building. You know where it is, right?"

My son is oblivious to what I had just told him to do. He seems preoccupied with something on his tablet, and I think it has something to do with a certain brunette that he's become so fond of lately.

"Stephen!" My voice is now louder than it was a moment ago.

"Yes, Dad?" My son finally acknowledges that he can actually hear me.

"I asked you to go and get Carrie and the twins from day care," I repeat the imperative.

"Why does it have to be me?" he answers back with an annoyed tone of voice, like I had interrupted him from something very important.

"Because I'm asking you to," I reply, slightly irritated that my son is being stubborn.

Felicity interrupts our father-and-son exchange. "It's okay, honey," she tells me. "Maybe we can just ask Ms. Fei to go get the kids?" she suggests with a smile.

Although I don't really like the idea of letting my son off the hook for now, I go with her suggestion and ask my secretary to fetch the children from the day care at the ground floor. Felicity kisses me on the cheek and then leaves to go to the infirmary on the third floor for her doctor's appointment.

I, on the other hand, try to do some paperwork on my desk while waiting, and I lose track of time in the process just like Stephen and Emily have.

"I'm back!" Felicity's cheerful voice echoes through the room as she walks spritely into my office. "Where are the kids?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah. They should have been here minutes ago," I answer, puzzled myself.

Felicity's smile is immediately replaced by a frown, and now she has her hands on her hips. "Minutes ago? It's 5:00! You sent Ms. Fei to get them an hour ago. Where are they? We're going to be late for the movie at the theater," she says, her voice betraying the exasperation and confusion she is feeling.

"I'm sorry, I lost track of time," I apologize. "Get Stephen and Emily ready. I'll call day care right now."

I pick up the office phone and dial the extension for day care. A woman answers after two rings and I ask about Carrie and the twins and Ms. Fei.

"Mr. Queen, I was just about to leave after I finished cleaning up for the day. We closed nearly an hour ago, and your kids are no longer here. They were picked up a while back as I recall. Hold on for a second, sir, and let me look at the log," the woman replies.

I wait in silence for a moment. My chest begins to tighten at the possibility that something's gone wrong. It feels like ages, and then the woman's voice is back. "Yes... It says here your kids were fetched by Ms. Shado Fei, employee number 15-00789, at 4:08 p.m. Her signature appears in the log, sir."

"Thank you very much for the information, Miss...?" I ask.

"Linden, sir," the woman replies.

"Ms. Linden, right," I acknowledge. I pause for a moment, deciding on what to say to her next. If something has really gone wrong, this woman would need to answer some very important questions. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Linden, but I'm afraid you're going to have to stay a bit longer today. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get overtime pay. Could you stay, maybe til we could sort things out? You see, my kids still aren't back with Ms. Fei."

"Oh... I'm very sorry to hear that. And, of course, sir. I can stay for as long as you need me. That won't be a problem," Ms. Linden replies.

"Thank you," I answer, and then I hang up the phone.

My heart begins to throb faster, and my mind is flipping through a dozen possible scenarios. "There has to be some logical explanation why Ms. Fei hasn't returned with the kids yet. If they're still in the building then I have to act fast," I argue in my mind. I send a text for Diggle to come up immediately.

I know I have to tell my wife that something's wrong. I also know that no matter how calmly I do that, she will not take it well. So, I walk over to where she is helping Emily and Stephen pack away their gadgets. I place my hand on her arm gently and turn her around to face me.

"Felicity..." I begin to speak. Then I pause, heaving a deep sigh, not sure of how to proceed. "I... I think something's wrong."

With just a few words, my wife's motherly instinct kicks in, and she senses that I am about to tell her something dreadful. "What happened? Where are the kids?" she asks with widened eyes and a shaky, cracking voice that's laced with sudden fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it rains, it pours. How should Oliver and Felicity deal with their multiplying troubles? What do you think happened to the Queen kids?


	12. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens deal with the mysterious disappearance of TJ, Liv, and Carrie with Oliver's secretary. They get help from family and friends. In this chapter, there'll be good news and bad news.

Emily:

I feel like crying, but the tears don't fall. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my palms are clammy with cold sweat. I'm terrified at the thought of my younger siblings disappearing into thin air.

As soon as Dad had finished explaining to Mom everything that the lady from day care had told him, Uncle John had arrived, and Dad went over the entire story again with him as he held Mom close to his side.

"Don't worry Oliver. Just sit tight. We'll get to the bottom of this. Three kids and an adult don't just vanish without a trace," Uncle John had said. "Relax, Felicity," he added. "At this point, there is no reason to worry. Let me see what I can find out. I'll go down to Security and see what the cameras in the ground floor can tell us. In the meantime, you stay here with Stephen and Emily." Our parents nodded, and Uncle John left the office.

It's been about three minutes since Uncle John left. I can't hold back fearful feelings anymore, so I start to cry. From where she and Dad are sitting on the couch, Mom hears me sobbing. She breaks away from Dad's embrace and swiftly comes to hug me tight.

"Emily, sweetie, what's wrong?" Mom asks anxiously.

"I... I can't..." I try to speak, but I can't get the words out. I can't control my sobbing. "I just... I just can't bear the thought of Carrie and the twins disappearing," I say in between sobs and snuffles. "What if... what if someone... someone really awful had... had taken them? What if... what if they're hurt somewhere... and... and we can't get to them soon enough? What... what do you think happened to them? Mom?"

"Shh... shh... Stop crying, sweetie. Everything will be all right. We're going to find them. Soon," Mom says to me softly, but her voice wobbles a bit. I sense that she is trying real hard to fight her fears herself. That doesn't help me. My cries turn into wails.

That's when Dad comes over and kneels in front of us. He puts a big, warm hand on my shoulder and the other on Mom's, and squeezes as he says, "Calm down, Emily. We don't know for sure yet what really happened, so it doesn't help to think about what ifs. Worrying won't help either. But one thing's for sure, we won't stop until we're sure TJ, Liv, and Carrie are safe. We'll get them back. I promise."

"Promise?" I ask, looking at both my parents.

"Promise," Dad says firmly.

"You know what?" Dad continues to speak. "What do you say we pause for a while and pray about this? I think that's the best thing we can do right now if we really want to get them back soon. Come over here Stephen."

My older brother has been quiet all this time. I can't quite read the expression on his face. I don't really see worry or fear in his eyes. I don't sense panic. Not even anger. And I don't think he's mystified or puzzled that our brother and sisters are missing. There's something else he's brooding about, and I can't put my finger on it. He, nonetheless, comes over and kneels beside Dad who motions for him to join us.

Just before Dad begins to pray, Mom captures him with her loving gaze. I can see the glow of pride in her eyes. It's like she's telling him without the aid of spoken words how pleased she is at the man of faith that this person in front of her has become through the years. I stare at them staring at each other with a warmth so deep and tender. Right then and there I sense them strengthening and encouraging one another with just their shared gaze. This comforts me tremendously and causes me to stop weeping.

Dad holds Mom's hand and then begins to lead in a short, but sincere prayer. "Dear God, we believe You know where TJ, Liv, and Carrie are. Please keep them safe until we get them back. Please let them know that You can keep them safe and that we're going to do everything we can to find them. God, please don't let anyone hurt them. Bring them back to us soon because we trust in You. And do send people to help us find them soon. Amen."

Stephen:

The office phone rings. Dad stands up and quickly reaches for the phone on his desk. I get up, too, and sit on the couch opposite Mom and Emily.

"Hello? Yes Dig, it's me. What did you find out?" Dad asks. He is quiet for a good full minute, listening intently to whatever it is that his trusted friend and bodyguard is telling him. We wait patiently to hear what news Uncle John is sharing.

As Dad puts down the phone, Mom asks expectantly, "What did John say? Did he find them?"

"Not yet. He already alerted security. Mitchell, our head of security has ordered a sweep of the entire building - all floors, especially the ground floor, basement, and all the parking levels. Guards are now being posted at all exit points, including fire escapes, to ensure that the kids are spotted if ever they're still in the building. We'll find them, honey. Don't worry," Dad explained reassuringly.

"What about the CCTVs?" Mom asks again.

"Digg and Mitchell are on their way to the main control room of Security. They're going to look at the footage recorded in the last hour by all our cameras, especially the one in the hallways of the ground floor, the lobby, and the stairwells and elevators. He'll let us know as soon as they find something."

"Okay," Mom responds. She pauses for a while, and then speaks again. "Do you think maybe we can ask the police for help? I'm sure Quentin would be more than eager to help us find his grandkids," she suggests, but it comes out as more of an urgent request rather than a plain proposition.

"I suppose we can call and let him know that something's up. Maybe ask him what other things we can do. But I doubt that the police can step in this early. Diggle says it takes about twenty-four hours before we can report the kids and Ms. Fei as missing persons," Dad replies.

"That long?" Mom asks straight away.

"I'm afraid so. But I'll call Dad now and ask him what he thinks is best," Dad answers.

Mom nods her head in approval and says, "Good. That'll make me feel so much better." She smiles at him, and then he takes his phone from his pocket.

Dad gets in touch with Grandpa Quentin, who immediately answers. It takes only a few seconds for Dad to let him know what is going on. "He's coming over here right now... with Roy. He says this matter is urgent, especially since it involves his grandkids. He wants to personally advise Diggle and Mitchell what to do."

"That's great," Mom says. And then she looks at me and her eyebrows crinkle a bit.

"You're awfully quiet, Stephen. What's the matter, son?" she asks with concern. I don't answer. So she stands up and sits beside me. She puts an arm around my shoulder and sighs. "You know you can tell me what's on your mind, right? This is me, Stephen. What's wrong?" she probes.

I still don't answer.

"Are you worried?" she asks. I shake my head.

"Are you scared for your siblings?" she asks a second time. I still shake my head.

"Then what's bothering you?" she asks a third time. I still can't answer. I won't.

How can I tell them how badly I feel that Carrie and the twins are gone? How can I tell them how guilty I feel? If I had gone to get the kids like my Dad had asked, then maybe... maybe I could have... Oh, I don't know! Maybe all of this wouldn't have happened if I had just done what I was told to do. This is all my fault!

I hang my head low in shame and regret. I grab my knees, a hand on each one, and squeeze them until both my hands and knees hurt. And then a tear drops to the floor, followed by another one, until I burst into tears. "It's my fault they're gone!"

Mom gasps in bewilderment. She clearly does not expect that the reason I am upset is that I blame myself for what's happening. She doesn't say anything at all. She just wraps me in her arms and rubs my back, trying to calm me with the warmth and tenderness of her embrace. But I'm too ashamed to hug her back. My arms remain stiff at my sides and my hands are still balled into fists. My eyes are closed shut as I continue to sob on her shoulder.

When I begin to calm down and open my eyes, Dad is already kneeling in front of me. He puts his hand on my knee and says, "Stephen, none of this is your fault. No one is blaming you for this. Yes, you failed to obey when I asked you to fetch your brother and sisters, but the fact that they're missing is not on you. Do you understand?"

I break free from Mom's embrace and wipe away some tears with the back of my hand. "But..." I grope for words. "But... if only I had gone to get them..."

"If you had gone to get them, and there had been an accident, or some trouble, or someone had..." Dad hesitates, and then continues, "If you had gone, then you'd be missing, too. Don't you think?"

I consider carefully what Dad had just said, and I say, "I guess... I guess you're right. So... you and Mom aren't mad at me or anything?"

This time, it's Dad who sighs in confusion. "You think we're blaming you for this?" Dad asks. "I'll say it again, son. This. Is not. Your fault. No one's blaming you for what's happening. Please understand that," he says to me as he squeezes my knee harder.

Emily comes closer and we find temporary comfort in a tight group hug.

Emily:

Soon, Uncle John returns with Grandpa Quentin and Uncle Roy, but they bring some very disappointing and troubling news. Everyone sits on the couches to listen carefully to what Grandpa has to say.

"As soon as we arrived, Roy and I went straight to the security control room and found Diggle and Mitchell there looking over camera footages between 4:00 and 5:00. It appears that all the ground floor cameras - the one in the hallway just outside of day care, the one in the hallway leading up to the lobby, the stairwell, and the elevators - all of them had been temporarily frozen during the time period in question," Grandpa explains.

"What do you mean frozen?" Mom asks, confused.

"It looks like the camera feeds had been cut, interrupted so to speak, at 4:05 p.m. Pre-recorded footages seem to have been inserted to replace whatever took place in those locations until about 4:20 p.m. So there's a fifteen minute time gap that's unaccounted for," Uncle John clarifies.

"How is that even possible?" Dad asks with an agitated tone of voice.

"Someone hacked into our security system," Mom immediately replies before either Grandpa or Uncle John could. "That's the only logical explanation."

"It is," Grandpa remarks. "The kids and Ms. Fei have been gone for almost two hours now. I'm not waiting for another hour because this is obviously a multiple missing person's case... that involves my very own grandkids! Harper, call this in now."

I can sense the urgency in my grandfather's voice and body language. Sweat begins to form on his forehead and the frown that usually appears on his face when he's upset is definitely showing. He says it's a multiple missing person's case, but something tells me that it's more serious than that.

Dad puts his arm around my mom's shoulder and pulls her closer to his side. Mom has her eyes closed and her trembling hand covering her mouth. She is breathing in and out unevenly, and Dad tries to calm her with soothing words. Stephen leans back on the couch and covers his face with a throw pillow, refusing to speak to anyone.

While Uncle Roy speaks to someone in their precinct over the phone, Grandpa calls someone else.

"Hey, Sara, it's Dad. We have a problem," he says over phone. "Carrie and the twins are missing... Two hours already... No... Security camera footages have been tampered with. It's clearly foul play. We've got ourselves an abduction case. And the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced this is beyond the SCPD. This is your turf, sweetheart. We need your help. Yeah... How soon can you get here from Central City?... Ok, great. I'll see you then. Bye."

We all heard everything Grandpa said to Aunt Sara on the phone. I know I did. But all I can think of is that one frightening, horrifying word. Abduction. Who would do such a thing? Who took Carrie and the twins? Why were they taken? Where are they now? I shudder, thinking about the possible answers to those questions, and I begin to cry once again. Will I ever see my brother and sisters again?

Uncle John tells my dad that he needs to go down and help Mitchell receive the cops who are arriving soon, and that they're all going to work together and do a clean sweep of the entire building to find evidence because immediate action is crucial to finding the kids and Ms. Fei as soon as possible. After reassuring my mom that they're going to do everything they can to find my siblings, Uncle John and Uncle Roy leave the office once again.

"It's bad, huh?" Mom stands and walks over to where Grandpa Quentin is standing near Dad's desk. Grandpa just looks at her, trying to hide the gloom in eyes and the anxiety on his face, but the twitch at the corner of his lips betrays him. "You wouldn't be asking for Sara's help if it isn't," Mom adds.

Grandpa doesn't answer at first. He takes Mom by the shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, looking over her shoulder to cast a reassuring glance at my dad. He pulls back and then says to them, "I'm so sorry that this is happening. But I promise you this. We're going to do everything we can to get them back."

Oliver:

It's been thirty minutes since the cops had arrived. Dad had introduced me and Felicity to SCPD detectives Farrell and Castillo who would be working on the kidnapping case together with the FBI. We had been told that abduction cases of this sort are under the jurisdiction of the FBI, the closest team being the one in Central City, led by Sara Lance herself, who is my sister-in-law and best friend Tommy's wife. She and I had spoken on the phone a few minutes ago. She said she was on her way, and will be with us in about an hour. Felicity began to feel better knowing that Sara would be on the case. This way we could always be kept updated with the recent developments in the investigations.

My phone rings and vibrates in my pocket, and I answer the call. "Dig?"

"Oliver, we found TJ. Basement parking level 2F. Come quickly. We need you here, man," Dig says.

I hang up and turn to my wife, telling her with hopeful eyes, "Honey, they found TJ. He's in basement parking level 2. They want me to go down there to get him."

Mom heaves a deep sigh of relief and puts one hand on her chest. "That's... good news. Isn't it? Can I come?"

I place my hands on Felicity's shoulders and assure her that I will handle the situation. I tell her to stay with Stephen and Emily and wait in the office with Quentin for Sara to arrive. Based on the tone of Dig's voice, I'm not sure what to expect. He didn't tell me exactly what shape my son is in - whether he's alive or not, if he's hurt or injured. So I think it's best that Felicity not witness the scene that's waiting for me at the basement. After I kiss her on the cheek, I head for the basement accompanied by detectives Farrell and Castillo.

When the elevator doors opened at basement parking level 2, we are met by Diggle, Roy, and some cops that lead us to the spot where my four-year-old son is. I'm relieved when they tell me that TJ's alive, but they say that they haven't been able to move him. Apparently, every time they attempt to touch him, he'd scream and cry. That's why they needed me to come down. They think I can get him to calm down.

The sight of my son from twenty feet away breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. He is tied to a metal pipe in a dark corner behind a dumpster. His mouth is gagged, and he is soaked in sweat and tears. I stride faster to get to him sooner, but Diggle yanks me by the arm. "Oliver, take it slow. He's been through a lot. Talk to him in the calmest way possible," he advises.

I slow down my gait. About five feet away from TJ, I stop and kneel down in front of him. "TJ, it's Daddy. Do you know who I am, son?" I ask softly and slowly.

TJ cringes and continues to shake uncontrollably. He is still crying a bit and sniffing.

"Thomas John Queen. That's your name, right?" I look into my son's eyes in an attempt to get through to him. "TJ, do you recognize my voice? It's Dad. Please... let me come closer." I inch my way closer to him. "Daddy wants to help you. You're safe now. Daddy's here." My heart feels like it's being crushed, and I could barely keep from crying at the sight of my traumatized little boy. But I knew I had to keep it together. "TJ, son... Everything's okay. I'm coming to get you now." I reach out my hand to touch his knee, and he doesn't resist or scream. So, I smile at my son and say, "I have an idea, and I think you're gonna like it. What'd you say when we get out of here, we go see that Ferrari car show you've been wanting to see? Would you like that?" And then, there it was - a breakthrough. TJ nods his head and stops crying. "That's my boy. Good boy." Slowly, I move closer and untie the gag, and then I set his hands free. I smile wider at him and say, "Come with Daddy, TJ. You're safe now."

"Dad!" TJ crawls out of the dark corner and into my arms. I've never hugged my son tighter than I do right now. His body and clothes are drenched in sweat and tears, but I don't mind. I've got my son, and I'm not letting him go. Holding him close brings back the memory of the day when he and Liv were born. I held our twins in my arms, one of the left and one on the right. They were the first fruits of the love that Felicity and I shared. Just the thought of almost losing one of them is unbearable.

Soon the cops are helping us get out of that spot, but I don't let go of my son. TJ clings to me tight until I hand him over to his mother when we reach my office at the top floor of the building. Felicity breaks down crying as soon as she sees him. He begins to breathe more evenly and his trembling ceases completely in her arms. They settle down on the couch as Felicity rocks him back and forth, singing his favorite lullaby close to his ear.

"I love you, TJ," I hear Felicity whisper in our son's ear. "Mommy loves you very much. You're safe now."

Felicity:

TJ has been asleep on the couch for almost an hour now, and Diggle is back with takeout from Big Belly Burger. Just as I get Emily and Stephen settled for dinner on the coffee table, Sara arrives.

"Thank you for coming," Oliver greets her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she comes in. Quentin also gives her a hug and kiss. "It means a lot to us that you're on the case," Oliver adds.

"Of course, I'm on the case. My nieces and nephew mean a lot to me," Sara replies. "Although... it wasn't easy for me to be assigned to this case. At first my boss thought I shouldn't be working it because it's too close to home. But I twisted his arm a little bit... Okay, a lot. I gave him my word that I can remain objective. And since we're calling in the B.A.U., the idea of me not working the case on my own seemed more plausible to him. So, here I am. At your service."

"Sara, I hope you don't mind my asking. But, why are you bringing in the BAU to this case? This isn't a serial killer case," I ask.

The expression on Sara's face changes. She bites her lip and gives her father a knowing look. She walks over and sits with me on the couch.

"I see that my father hasn't really briefed you entirely about how we're approaching this case," Sara says, looking at me first, and then at Oliver. "I need you to listen carefully and calmly, because this will not be easy," she continues. "I normally work missing persons and abduction cases like this with my partner, but this time I've called in a favor with some friends in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI in Quantico, Virginia. They agreed to come and help with the case."

"Why the BAU? Isn't that the special FBI unit that investigates serial murders?" I ask again.

Sara glances at her father and the two SCPD detectives. "We need the expertise of the BAU on this one because we are looking at the possibility of the abduction of your kids being connected to the abductions done by-"

"By the Cradle Snatcher," Quentin interrupts his daughter. "Remember during the housewarming party at Thea's? Roy and I were telling the guys about the threat that Starling City is facing at this time of the year."

"Yes, I remember," Oliver answers. "And you think the Cradle Snatcher is the one who took our kids?" He asks, his voice showing that he is evidently worried.

"We do not know that for sure," Sara replies. "We do not have enough evidence to establish that yet. That's why we need the team from the BAU. Special agent Aaron Hotchner and his team are flying to Starling as we speak. They should be here in a couple of hours."

"What makes you think the kidnapping of our kids is connected to this... this Cradle Snatcher?" I inquire further, getting more and more anxious as I play out different scenarios in my head.

"Do you really want to talk about his now?" Sara asks hesitantly.

"Yes, please. I just want to understand what's going on," I answer. Oliver moves closer and stands behind me, behind the couch where I'm seated. He lays his hands on my shoulders to reassure me of his loving support. He says, "Please tell us so that we know what we're up against. We don't need the details, just enough for us to get the big picture."

Sara takes a deep breath, and then begins to explain. "Well, for one, SCPD has been on alert for days, watching out for child abductions in this city because of the very high probability that the Cradle Snatcher will strike this week or the next in northern California. Second, we know from previous case files that the Cradle Snatcher only takes girls between two to six years of age. The fact that he didn't take TJ is an indication that we are possibly dealing with either the Cradle Snatcher himself or a copy cat."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. How can this be happening to my family? Tears began to stream down my cheeks once again as my heartbeat raced. I can't bear the thought of my two little girls at the mercy of a cruel serial killer. Sara's ominous news seems to be strangling me, and I can't breathe.

I stand up, saying, "Please excuse me. I need some air." I run out of my husband's office, wiping tears from my face with the palm of my hand.

As soon as I reach my office at the opposite end of the top floor, Oliver catches up with me.

"Felicity!" he cries out, grabbing one of my arms. He pulls me in for a tight hug, and we both cry in each other's arms for a while. No words could express what we're both feeling. All we know is that there's an intense pain in our chests, like our hearts are being ripped apart by the knowledge that our girls' lives are in grave danger.

My arms and hands are trembling, and I am sobbing uncontrollably. I feel my lower abdomen cramping again, and soon, my legs give way. Oliver's strong arms keep me from falling. He scoops me up in his arms and lays me on the couch in my office. That's when I remember that I had something very important to tell my husband before all of this craziness began.

Oliver gets me a glass of water and then sits down on my side, massaging my previously quaking arms. I've managed to calm down, wiping my tears with some tissue that he provided.

"Oliver," I began to speak, still sniffing a bit. "I need to tell you something."

"Tell me," he says tenderly. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and then he brushes my cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Before all of this... happened... I had some news to share with you. Dr. Snow... she ran some tests this afternoon when I went for my check-up. The urine test and the ultrasound... came out positive... and I... I'm... I'm pregnant."

"What?" my husband asks. His face and his voice tell me that he is pleasantly surprised.

"I'm pregnant... again," I say with a faint smile. "I didn't know until today. After I had the twins, my menstrual cycle had changed, became irregular, remember? That's why I wasn't too eager to take a pregnancy test when my period hadn't arrived after we came back from our recent honeymoon. I thought I was simply delayed like before."

"How far along?"

"Five or six weeks."

"How is it possible that in the midst of this chaos, something beautiful can happen?" my husband asks in awe and wonder.

"I know. Bittersweet, huh," I answer.

My husband looks me straight in the eyes and says, "I love you, Felicity Queen." And then he leans forward and kisses me as lovingly and as passionately as ever. I lift my arms and run the fingers of my hands through his sandy blonde hair. When we break the kiss, he places his warm hands on my belly and adds, "I love you too, baby. Mommy and Daddy are going to take good care of you."

A tear fell from the corner of my eye. "Oliver, there's something else." I hesitate. I reach up to touch his face before I continue to speak. My lips quiver, and I know he recognizes the fear that I felt.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Dr. Snow says that the cramping and spasms I've been having are early signs of threatened abortion, which could lead to a miscarriage. I asked her why she thinks this could be happening when all my previous pregnancies were perfectly normal and without complications. She said that every pregnancy is different, and she suggested I go see my OB as soon as possible, before I start to bleed."

I grabbed his free hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

"Oliver, I'm afraid. I don't want to lose this baby... and I'm scared to death that we might lose our girls. I can't lose our children. Oh God, please don't let us lose our kids!"

Oliver placed his robust arms underneath me and lifted me up, pulling my shivering body close to him. Once again we just cried in each other's embrace, drawing strength and comfort from each other.

"Shh... shh... I'm here, babe. And I love you," my husband whispers in my ear. "We're gonna get through this. Perhaps battered and bruised, but we're going make it through."

I'm just so tired and tense, but his voice is steadfast and sure, so soothing that soon I fall asleep in his arms. The next thing I know, Oliver kisses me on the cheek and wakes me.

"Honey, Agent Hotchner and his team from the BAU are here. They want to talk to us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think really happened to the kids?
> 
> Stephen and Emily have slightly similar responses to the situation - guilt and fear.   
> Finding TJ is such good news, and writing that dramatic portion almost made me cry myself. And then, just as I was recovering from that one, I had to write the drama between Oliver and Felicity about the baby. Ugh! Deja vu...


	13. The Worst Part of Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is back. The Queens meet the team from the FBI's BAU. In this chapter, we are given a short glimpse into what's happening with the missing girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where my favorite FBI team on television make their first appearance in our story!
> 
> This chapter is not as long as the one before this or the one that will follow; it's some sort of filler, meant to keep you hanging in suspense - as the title says, "the worst part of waiting," so.... But I still hope you will like how the story is unfolding. As usual, even the shortest review is welcomed as kindness. Enjoy!

Stephen:

When my parents didn't come back after Grandpa Quentin and Aunt Sara explained to them how abduction cases work, I went looking for them. I found them both in Mom's office, fast asleep on the couch. Dad was seated on one end of the couch, leaning backwards and resting his head on a throw pillow. His lap was the pillow for Mom's head. His left arm was draped across her chest, and he clung to her forearm to hold her securely. It had been a very long, stressful day, and they both looked so tired and haggard. But watching them rest so peacefully together had a soothing effect on me: it reminded me that together, the Queens can face any challenge because our parents were strong and brave. Their love for each other and for each of us, their children, made them strong and brave.

I didn't want to wake them, so I turned and began to tiptoe towards to the door.

"Stephen," Dad suddenly whispered. "Is TJ still asleep in my office?"

"Yes, Dad," I answered very softly. "Emily fell asleep on the other couch too. Uncle John is watching them."

Dad slowly and carefully eased his way out of the couch from underneath my mom, who was sleeping so soundly it was like she had been knocked out cold. He motioned me to follow him back to his office. When we got there, Uncle Tommy had just arrived. Seeing my dad, he immediately reached for him and gave him a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry, man," Uncle Tommy said. "I drove back from Central City as fast as I could. Sara and I were supposed to have dinner together. I'd been waiting in the restaurant already when she phoned me. She explained what had happened and told me to meet her back here. It's good to know she'll be working this case. How are you holding up?"

Dad just shrugged his shoulders and slumped into his chair. Uncle Tommy sat on the corner of Dad's desk. "Talk to me, Oliver."

After a few moments of silence, Dad found the words to express where his pain was coming from. "I can't believe this is happening, Tommy. Who would do such a thing? They're just kids. Tommy, do you think... Do you think our kids are okay?"

"I don't know," was Uncle Tommy's honest reply.

"Do you think they're still alive?" Dad asked again, his voice trembling with fear and apprehension.

"Don't go there, Oliver. There's no point in imagining the worst," Uncle Tommy cautioned him. "How is Felicity taking it?"

"It's hard for her... It hurts seeing her so... devastated. Especially now that she's..." Dad was speechless for a while, his head hanging low as he stared at the surface of his desk, and then he looked up. He looked at Uncle Tommy, then at Uncle John, and then at me. He took a deep breath and said, "She's pregnant."

"What?" I asked. What my dad had just revealed caught me by surprise.

Dad looked at me again and said, "Mom's about one and a half months pregnant, son. She just found out today."

"But that's good news, isn't it? Why do you look so sad?" I asked, wondering why my dad didn't seem pleased and happy that another Queen is on the way. In the last two pregnancies, he and Mom were so excited to break the news to us.

Dad heaved a heavy sigh. "Because it doesn't look good. The doctor says there might be complications. The spasms she's having... they're actually contractions. She might even start to bleed and... The doctor says these are signs of threatened abortion."

"What does that mean?" I asked again. This wasn't making any sense.

Dad couldn't answer. His eyes appeared misty, and soon a tear fell from the corner of his eye. He glanced at Uncle John, who was sitting on a chair next to the couch where TJ lay. It was as if he was asking his close friend and bodyguard to help him out.

Uncle John just nodded at him and then looked at me. "It means there's a chance your mom might lose the baby between now and her third month." Uncle Tommy quickly added, "She needs to be well rested and to be worry-free. And you need to help your dad take good care of her to make sure that doesn't happen."

It took me a few seconds to process what the guys had just told me. Mom is pregnant. To me, that's great news. But she might lose the baby. That's definitely not good. How can she be worry-free now that Liv and Carrie are gone? There's one thing I know for sure: that my dad is going to need my help as the next man in the house to make sure our mother – and our baby brother or sister that's growing inside her – will be okay.

"Oliver, try to stay positive. Your wife and baby will be okay," Uncle Tommy said, trying his best to encourage his best friend. "As for Liv and Carrie, we don't know all of the facts yet. Worrying doesn't do anything to expedite the investigations or to ensure the safety of your girls. You have to be strong for Felicity and for your family."

"And you're not in this thing alone, man," Uncle John continued, speaking in a firm yet reassuring tone of voice. "We're all here for you. Sara, Quentin, and Roy are on top of this. Tommy, Lyla, and I... we're here for you. Even Thea is on her way back. She cut short her out-of-town business trip as soon as she got word from Roy. We're a family."

"Thanks," Dad said, wiping the tear from the corner of his eye with his handkerchief. "Where are Sara and Quentin, by the way?"

"They went downstairs to join detectives Farrell and Castillo with the preliminary investigations. The CSI team had already arrived and begun working. Apparently, Roy and his partner found something at the stairwell of the basement parking level near where TJ was found. We don't know what it is yet, though," Uncle John answered.

"Well, it's getting late and I'm guessing your kids must be pretty tired after all the commotion. Would you like me to take them home?" Uncle Tommy offered.

"I'd appreciate that," replied Dad. "I'll try to reach Thea and tell her to meet you there. She can watch the kids. I don't know how much longer we'll be here."

"Oh, it might take a while," Uncle John remarked. "And TJ will have to stay behind. He's an eye witness, and at this point, he's the best lead in this investigation. They're gonna want to speak to him when he wakes up," he explained further.

"Will you go with them, Dig? Please?" Dad requested, even if as Uncle John's boss he could just as easily have ordered him to go.

"No problem. I'll see that they get home safe. Call me when you want me to come back and get you. Even if it's late. I'll talk to Lyla," Uncle John replied.

Emily:

I wake up feeling Stephen's taps on my shoulder. (I guess I wasn't sleeping so soundly. I usually sleep like a log, and it would take an earthquake to jolt me out of my dreams.) He tells me that I'd been sleeping for about an hour and that we're supposed to head home now with Uncle Tommy.

Mom is still not with us in Dad's office. After Stephen and I kiss and hug Dad goodbye, we pass by her office and kiss her lightly on her forehead. Uncle Tommy and Uncle John then lead us to the elevator. After a very quiet ride down the many floors of the building, the elevator doors open.

The lobby of the QC building is bustling with people. The police are everywhere. Some are just standing guard. Some are taking statements from QC employees in an attempt to gather clues or to find someone who might have seen something that could help with the on-going investigations. There were two or three people wearing uniforms with the letters CSI printed on them; they're headed towards the stairwell that leads to the basement parking. Just outside the front doors of the building, there were dozens of reporters waiting for a chance to get an interview with someone... anyone who was willing to talk. Security is on alert, trying to keep them at bay.

As we walk across the spacious lobby, I notice Grandpa Quentin, Aunt Sara, and Uncle Roy. They are busy talking to a group of people who are not dressed like cops but also did not look like they were QC employees. Their IDs say they're FBI. "Cool," I thought. "The FBI is going to help get my sisters back."

When Grandpa sees us pass by, he leaves the group for a while to talk to us. "Heading home?" he asks.

"Yeah," Uncle Tommy replies.

"Good," Grandpa says. "Tommy, please make sure my grandkids get home safely." Then he turns to Uncle John and tells him, "And Mr. Diggle, do make sure that none of those vultures out there comes close to my grandkids." With a frown on his face, he points to the reporters just outside the main entrance.

"Certainly, sir," Uncle John affirms. "But I sure could use some assistance from some guys in uniform."

Grandpa orders some of the police and security personnel to protect us and help us exit the building in one piece. As Uncle John leads the way, parting the sea of photographers and reporters surrounding us, Uncle Tommy holds on to us tightly as we pass through the exit and make it all the way to his car. Soon, we are all buckled in, and we head home. Safe.

It's awfully quiet for most of the ride home, until Uncle Tommy breaks the silence. "How are you two holding up?" he asks me and my older brother. Stephen chooses to stay quiet. I look at him. He looks out the window.

"It would help to talk about it, you know," Uncle Tommy remarks. I think he's right. He's not just trying to go for a pep talk. I could sense that he sincerely cares. So I begin to speak.

"What's gonna happen now?" I ask.

It is Uncle John who answers as he drives the car. "Well, the detectives and the FBI agents are going to do a thorough investigation. Right now they're gathering evidence, clues, and witnesses to help them solve this mystery so that they can find your sisters and bring them home."

"Oh..." I pause for a while, and then I ask some more questions. "Why do you think Liv and Carrie were taken? Who would do something like this?" I ask again.

Uncle Tommy answers this time. "I don't know, sweetheart. That's what the police and the FBI are trying to find out. Don't you worry. They're good at their job. They're gonna get to the bottom of this, and soon your sisters will be home in no time."

"Uncle Tommy," my brother suddenly speaks, breaking our uncle's line of thought, "please don't make promises you can't keep."

Uncle Tommy doesn't answer. Neither does Uncle John, who just keeps on driving silently. I understand that Uncle Tommy is simply trying to make me and my brother feel better – relieve some of the tension that has built up since late afternoon. But Stephen is right. No one knows for sure if Liv and Carrie are okay, or if they're going to come back to us in one piece, or if... or if they're still breathing. That dreadful thought gave me goosebumps, and I felt cold all over. My throat hurts as I hold back the tears and try to keep myself from crying out loud.

A day hasn't gone by yet, but I already miss by little sisters. Terribly. The tears roll down my cheeks like a rushing river. I can't hold them back any longer. It isn't just fear and worry that I'm feeling. There's this awful feeling of sadness and guilt. I've often felt insecure and jealous of my younger siblings, especially Carrie, Dad's "pretty princess." But now, I feel so... bad. I may never see my sisters again. I may never hear Liv babble again. I may never get a hug and a wet kiss from Carrie again. I regret all those times I wished they were never in our lives! Now I realize I'd been foolish and selfish. I love all my siblings so much, and I just want – more than anything in this world – another chance to see them and hold them. "Oh, please God! Bring them back safely. I know You've got your eye on Your sparrows. Please bring my sisters home!" I pray desperately in my mind.

Right now, I know there's really nothing else we can do but wait. And the worst part of waiting is not knowing for sure where they are and if they're ever coming back.

I reach out to hold my brother's hand. I hold it in a tight grip until we reach the mansion. Aunt Thea is already at the front door steps waiting for us.

Oliver:

When Felicity and I return to my office, Quentin, Sara, and the FBI agents are already there. Sara introduces to us to the team leader of the Behavioral Analysis Unit that flew in from Virginia to work the case. She explains that special agent Aaron Hotchner had been her mentor when she was an agent-in-training at Quantico, and she had had the privilege of working with his team for a year before she completed the program and was transferred to the missing persons unit.

Agent Aaron Hotchner, a tall, middle-aged, mild-mannered gentleman, introduces the members of his team to me and my wife. First, there's agent David Rossi, who, like agent Hotchner is an expert at behavioral analysis and profiling. Unlike his team leader though, he had written a couple of best-selling books on serial killers and has been one of the most sought-after speakers on the subject in the East Coast. (I figure that's why his name sounds familiar.) The rest of the team is composed of agents Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Jennifer Jareau.

"You have no idea how grateful and relieved we are that your team of experts is here to help solve this case, Agent Hotchner," I say after the preliminary introductions are over. I reach out and offer the man a firm handshake. "This is my wife, Felicity Queen."

My wife also shakes his hand and says, "It's nice to meet you, all of you. Please, just... just help us get our daughters and Ms. Fei back."

"We cannot guarantee how things will play out, Mrs. Queen. But we can promise you this: we will do our utmost to find them and apprehend the person or persons responsible for abducting them," says Agent Hotchner.

"Persons? So you're thinking there's more than one person involved?" my wife comments and asks almost instantly.

"We think that it's most likely the un-sub is not working alone. He couldn't have been able to pull off the abduction of more than one victim in broad daylight in such a secure yet public facility such as Queen Consolidated without help from at least one other person," Agent Hotchner answers.

"And you think it's a man who did it?" Felicity inquires again. I can sense the wheels of her mind are turning, and she's catching on to this detective stuff more quickly than I am.

"Yes, mam," Agent Rossi answers this time. "We are working under that assumption at this time, but we cannot comment on the profile of the un-sub any further just yet."

Agent Hotchner explains further, "Mr. Queen, since yours is a high-profile family, we are not discounting the likelihood that this could be just another kidnap-for-ransom case. The only reason why our team is here is because we are helping local law enforcement rule out the possibility that the perpetrator could turn out to be the Cradle Snatcher or a copy cat. Has anyone contacted you or your wife, claiming responsibility for the abduction or asking for ransom?"

"No," I replied tersely.

My wife wastes no time and doesn't mince words as she asks the leader of the BAU team point blank. "Agent Hotchner, do you think my daughters are still alive?" Felicity's eyes pool with tears once again, but she holds back an impending sob, her gaze steadfast and intently waiting for an honest appraisal by the crime expert.

"Mrs. Queen, I cannot answer that question with absolute certainty until we have a better profile of the abductor and a better working analysis of his motives behind the abduction. In most cases, the first 48 hours are critical. But let me be honest with you and your husband, in cases like this, the longer this takes for us to solve, the chances of getting the girls back get slimmer and slimmer, so it's best you prepare yourselves for the worst but keep hoping for the best."

My arm is wrapped around my wife's waist all this time, and I feel my wife shudder at Agent Hotchner's words. I pull her closer to me and tighten my hold on her. She took a deep breath and breathed out slowly, attempting to keep herself calm.

Agent Hotchner then looks at the slender blonde woman beside him who is just about the same age as my wife. "We know that yours is a high-profile family, Mr. Queen. Agent Jareau, here, will act as liaison between the investigators and the media to make sure that this case is handled as carefully and discreetly as possible."

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner. We really appreciate that," I say, as I rub my wife's back to comfort and reassure her that everything will be all right.

Meanwhile, somewhere just outside Starling City...

Liv:

It's cold and dark where we are. And it's quiet – too quiet it scares me even more. I've never been more frightened in my very short life. All I can think of right now is whether or not our parents would be able to find us. "What if they never do?" I asked myself anxiously.

It's been a while since that horribly fearsome man left us down here. His low, husky, ghost-like voice alone is scary. When he spoke, he had this weird accent that made him sound even more wicked. Scary wicked. Just looking at his face gives me the creeps. One of his eyes is covered with a black leather patch. I couldn't help but wonder what that patch is hiding underneath.

Soon after the man left, Carrie had fallen asleep, tired of crying and shaking ever since we were dragged into a car in the basement parking of QC. I had tried to sing her favorite song to calm her down, but my own voice kept cracking in fear, so I just gave it up. She had curled into position, lying down with her head on my lap, not letting go of my hand. I stroked her soft, brown hair to make her feel better until she fell asleep. Even if I, too, am scared to death not knowing what's going to happen to us, I knew I had to be strong for my little sister.

I don't see Ms. Fei anywhere either. I hope she's okay. That evil man forced her to help him zip-tie our hands in the stairwell and to tie TJ near a dumpster. He shoved her so hard her head banged against the wall in the stairwell. The sight of blood on her forehead sent a cold chill up and down my spine. Neither Carrie nor I screamed in shock.

"Where are we?" I wonder. There's nothing in this world I wouldn't give right now just to see my family again. I really, really just want to go home! Now I break down, sobbing and crying myself to sleep.


	14. An Eavesdrop and an Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Hotchner's team investigate further - with the help of our favorite IT specialist, a "guest" forensics expert, and a talented and brave little boy. They begin to uncover important clues that will hopefully help them find the missing Queen girls and catch the un-sub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, and despite the fact that it's the longest chapter in this story so far, I still think that you're going to - most likely - still like it. I hope! It's a crossover with another of my favorite crime series on television, Criminal Minds (which will continue for until the second to the last chapter), with a special appearance by another favorite character from The Flash. Do let me know what you think. Reviews certainly are well appreciated.
> 
> Thanks so much for your support of this story. I do hope you are enjoying this and somehow gaining some inspiration and insights from it as well.

Felicity:

Liv, Carrie, and Ms. Fei have been missing for more than five hours now. The minutes tick by, and they seem like hours, as Oliver and I sat in his office, waiting for any kind of news about our daughters' whereabouts. For the last five minutes or so, Sara and Quentin have been in the conference room with the team from the BAU, discussing something that seemed urgent but quite confidential that they weren't willing to share anything with us yet. With the sliding glass doors closed, our conference room is virtually sound proof.

"I sure would like to listen in on what they're talking about," I say to my husband.

Oliver has his arm around my shoulder as we sit on the couch across our sleeping little son. He turns to me and says, "I know you do. But, honey, just stay calm. I'm sure they're going to share updates with us when they're ready."

"Yeah, right. Not if I can help it," I think to myself, because a clever idea has just popped into my head. I look at my husband, trying to read his face and body language for any indication of whether I had said that out loud or not. When he didn't have any negative reactions, I decide to put my plan into action.

I get up and in just a few strides I am already sitting behind his office desk. I start working on his computer. Within seconds, I access the live feed of the two cameras installed in our conference room, and I turn on the audio as well. I'm about to plug in a pair of headsets, which I had taken from the desk drawer, when I hear my husband speak.

"Felicity, what are you doing?" he asks, not really out of curiosity, but to confirm what he suspects I'm up to.

"I'm eavesdropping. I'm not waiting around for them to tell me later on… only what they want to tell me," I retort.

"You mean you've hacked into the security camera feeds and you're watching what's going on inside?"

"I didn't have to hack. I designed and upgraded QC's security protocols, remember? I'm authorized to access the system through a back door with my own password. The guys down at Security don't even know I'm in."

"Wow…" my husband responds with a look on his face that I couldn't quite read.

"Is that judgment I hear?" I ask.

"No. Pride," he replies. His remark makes me smile and boosts my confidence that he somehow approves of what I'm doing.

"And yes, I'm watching what's going on inside," I add. "Would you like to join me?"

His answer is obviously a "yes," because he stands up and comes over. He stands beside me and crouches down to look at the computer screen. We keep the volume down to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.

"Where are we on the testimonies of witnesses, Captain Lance?" Agent Hotchner asks Quentin.

My husband's father-in-law answers with a disappointed look on his face, "I'm afraid no one saw anything that could help us unravel this mystery. It's like the kidnapper or kidnappers came in, took the kids and the secretary, and escaped without anyone noticing anything. Like ghosts. As you know, we didn't get anything from the CCTVs."

"Not even from the basement parking cameras? The un-sub couldn't have been able to leave the premises from basement parking without passing through the parking booth at the ground level," Agent Morgan inquires.

"Nothing. No one except authorized QC employees left the parking facility. I've gone through the recorded footages since 4:00 with Mr. Diggle and Mr. Mitchell, head of QC Security. Only QC personnel with parking privileges passed through the booth at the ground level," Quentin explains. "It doesn't make any sense. Why did the suspect take them to basement parking if he wasn't planning on escaping through there?"

"It looks like that's the reason why the un-sub took the secretary as well," Agent Prentiss interjects. "She was the free pass and the insurance. We should go check on her vehicle… see if it already left the building and what time."

"And if they did leave the parking facility in her vehicle, we can't overlook the possibility that the secretary might be involved in the kidnapping as well," Agent Rossi adds.

Oliver and I look at each other, shocked that the investigators are now entertaining the possibility that the kidnapping was an inside job, that Ms. Fei could be an accomplice. My heart is pounding in my chest as we listen on.

"And what about the blood stain found by Officer Harper at the basement parking stairwell, Captain?" Agent Hotchner asks Quentin a second time.

Blood stain?! Whose blood is that?! In sudden panic, my hand instantly jumps from the keyboard to my husband's hand. Could Liv and Carrie be injured? I hold my breath as I wait for an answer.

"SCPD and FBI forensics are still working together on that as we speak," Sara answers this time. "We're almost certain that it doesn't belong to either of the children because the blood stain is too high up the wall. Looks like it's the secretary's," she explains further. Upon hearing that, I breathe out in relief.

Just then, the office door swings open and a young man with the letters CSI printed on his dark blue uniform enters, walking briskly towards us. "Excuse me. Where can I find Captain Lance and Agent Sara Merlyn?" he asks.

"They're in there," Oliver answers him, pointing to the direction of the conference room. "You can go in."

The young man enters the conference room, and right away, Quentin introduces him to the rest of the team. "Agent Hotchner, this is Mr. Barry Allen. He's the best forensic scientist we've got here in Starling. He's also a forensic consultant with the FBI based in Central City. He's the one leading the three-man CSI team that's assigned to this case. What have you got for us, Allen?"

"Well sir, we haven't found fingerprints anywhere near the day care or the stairwell, not even in the basement parking level where the boy was found. We also haven't been able to collect any physical evidence, and nothing we can get DNA samples from," Barry Allen reports with a slightly frustrated expression on his face. "There's good news though," he continues on a positive note. "The fresh blood stain the officers found? We've been able to establish that it belongs to an adult with blood type AB positive. It's safe to conclude that the blood doesn't belong to either of the children. We just need to get the medical records of the secretary, a Ms. Shado Fei, to make sure the blood is indeed hers. If not, it could be that our un-sub is now walking around somewhere, bleeding."

Quentin then spoke, "But getting the woman's medical record might take some more time since the infirmary in this office building is already closed. We could either ask authorized personnel for access to her medical records or go to immigration and government files, but that'll take longer."

At that moment, my brain and my heart are definitely in agreement about something. I minimize the window showing the live feed of the conference room cameras as Mr. Allen continued to speak to the investigators. I go to work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to decode the password to the files of QC's infirmary and HRD. Once I access the medical files of QC personnel, I immediately search for the medical records of Shado Fei. When I find it, I print out two copies.

Type AB+. I huff out a sigh of relief over the fact that the blood doesn't belong to either of my children, who, like me, are both type O. It's comforting to know that neither Liv nor Carrie seem to be injured when they were taken. Oliver places his soothing hand on my shoulder and kisses the crown of my head. I can tell that he, too, is relieved.

With my husband's permission, I stand up and wave at Sara to get her attention. She raises an eyebrow and immediately gets that I need her to come over. She excuses herself from the discussion and steps out of the conference room. "What's up?" she asks us.

I hand over to her one of the printouts of Shado Fei's medical records showing her blood type and other vital and personal information. She scans the document and then smiles at us. "You've been busy," she remarks with a twinkle in her eye. And then she turns around and rejoins the team of investigators with good news in her hands. We, in the meantime, maximize the window on the screen and resume watching the live camera feeds inside the conference room.

Agent Morgan is talking. "So now we know that the secretary had indeed encountered the un-sub together with the children. And because we haven't found a body, we can also consider her missing-"

"And injured," Agent Rossi interrupts, and then adds, "But we still can't dismiss the possibility that she could be in on it. Her being injured doesn't prove that she is an innocent victim herself. I don't know… but I just have a gut feeling that something about this woman is off," the expert profiler expresses.

I think to myself, "You got that right! The first time I ever met that little lady, I already sensed that something about her was off." When I see my husband glaring at me, I realize that I had just said that aloud. So I bite my lip and shrug my shoulders, feigning innocence.

"All right," Agent Hotchner stands and addresses his team, "here's what we're going to do. I'll have Garcia see what she can dig up about this Shado Fei. Morgan and Prentiss, go back to the crime scenes again. See what you can find in the stairwell and the basement parking, and find out whether or not Fei's car is still in the building. Rossi, take Sara with you. Go down to the day care to speak with a certain Ms. Linden, the lady in-charge whom Mr. Queen had detained for questioning. Reid and JJ, see what the little boy can tell us."

Just before Sara steps out of the conference room, Agent Hotchner catches up with her. "Sara, I hope the Queens don't take this the wrong way. But I'm wondering if I could speak with them and warn them not to overstep their boundaries. Their getting in our way might jeopardize the entire investigation."

"Don't worry, sir. They're really anxious for their kids, but they're level-headed people. They'll listen to you," Sara replies, glancing at one of the cameras to make sure Oliver and I get the message.

"Oops…" I mutter. "I guess we've been made," I tell Oliver.

Oliver:

As soon as everyone, except Agents Hotchner and Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid, had left my office to do their assigned tasks, the leader of the BAU team eyes me and Felicity. I could tell we are about to be politely reprimanded.

"May I speak with you and your wife, Mr. Queen?" he asks in a kindly demeanor, motioning us to step into the conference room to talk.

"Sure, Agent Hotchner. What can we help you with?" I answer calmly.

He proceeded to tell us that, while he understands the urgency of the situation, as well as our concern over the welfare and safety of our children, it is absolutely important that we trust their team to do their job, and that means not interfering with their investigations, and patiently waiting for them to ask for our help – if and when they thought they needed it. He also explained that it would not help the investigations at all if my wife and I get into unnecessary trouble with our "snooping around." (He didn't actually say it like that, but just one look at my wife's face, and I knew how well – or not well – she was taking the FBI agent's speech. "Snooping around" is exactly how she would have said it.)

"Agent Hotchner," I reply, "we appreciate everything you're doing to get our daughters and Ms. Fei back. My wife and I apologize for overstepping our bounds. I assure you, it will not happen again."

"Especially not if you let us help you, sir… by doing what we do best," my wife instinctively and assertively adds, to my astonishment. (And by "we," she is really just referring to herself.) I look at her, and I see purpose, determination, and courage crystallize in the expression on her face. I do not have the heart to interrupt her, and I'm not about to get in her way. My Felicity is being a brave mother, being the protective wild cat looking out for her cubs. Watching her like this boosts my admiration of her.

"Agent Hotchner, I understand that you intend to have your technical analyst dig into the background of Ms. Fei and investigate her. I can help with that. I am the head of IT, so I know QC's computer systems like the back of my hand. I also have authorized access to the company's databases and mainframe. I can help you, not just with data on Ms. Fei, but for anything else you'll need about our facility and our employees… and even about our children and our family," Felicity explains confidently.

I now turn to look at the somber -looking man to gauge his response. When I sense that he is not showing any sign of resistance, I attempt a follow-through. "I have faith in my wife's abilities, Agent Hotchner. Trust me when I say that she knows what she's talking about. Put her on a computer and give her Internet access, and she can be… unbelievably amazing."

My wife seems to have been flattered at the compliment I tagged at the end of that very laconic yet persuasive speech I just delivered. She smiled at me sweetly, and her fingers moved gently to intertwine with mine.

A brief moment of silence transpires as Agent Hotchner considers the option we had just offered him. And then, he picks up his phone and calls a number.

"Garcia," he speaks in his calm yet austere-sounding voice, "I need you to set up a secure line with us here at Queen Consolidated. Mr. and Mrs. Queen have offered to help us expedite our investigation by sharing whatever information they have in their files and systems that may be vital to the case." As he speaks, I could see my wife biting her lip in excitement. "First, I want you to find out everything you can about the employee that's gone missing with their kids, an Asian woman by the name of Shado Fei. You'll be working temporarily with Mrs. Queen under my direct supervision."

Agent Hotchner hangs up the phone and simply nods at my wife to express his acceptance of our offer to help. He briefly says, "We don't normally allow this kind of arrangement, because families of victims are normally too emotionally invested. But if you promise not to do anything without telling me, I'm willing to make this one-time concession to speed up the investigation. Ms. Garcia will be in touch with you as soon as she's ready with a secure channel." He then excuses himself and leaves to catch up with Agents Morgan and Prentiss.

As soon as their team leader leaves, Agent Jareau and Dr. Reid met us as we step out of the conference room. Agent Jareau is a petite blonde with a pleasant, smiling face, and I'm guessing she is just about the same age as Felicity. Dr. Reid is a slim, middle-aged man of medium height, and just by his appearance, I could already speculate that he is the geeky-nerdy type of guy – the kind that my wife used to hang out with in her high school and college days. It seems that his genius and expertise in whatever field he had completed a doctorate for must have earned him the title attached to his name. He's the only member of the team that no one refers to as "Agent." I can't wait to see what kind of conversation he might carry on with my wife. I grin at the thought. I can even picture him engaging Emily and our little Liv in quite a lively conversation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Queen, we need to speak with your son TJ," Agent Jareau says as we join them in my office lounge. "He's the only eye witness in this case, and anything he can tell us will be very helpful. You have nothing to worry about. Since he's a minor, you both can sit with him throughout the interview." This woman seems very kind, quite friendly and welcoming for an FBI agent trained to wield a gun and go after bad guys. I can see why she's the team member acting as their spokesperson and liaison with the media.

"TJ is only four years old, and he's quite shy. Do you think you can get anything out of him?" Felicity asks. She knows our son freely talks with us and his siblings, but when it comes to strangers, he tends to be reticent and quiet. She goes on to say, "Won't talking about his ordeal scare him again and bring up bad feelings? He's gone through an awful lot. I'm not sure he can handle it at this time."

"Mrs. Queen," Dr. Reid begins to explain, "time is of the essence, and right now, your son is our only solid lead. We do have special ways of getting information from traumatized children, and with your permission, we would like to try. Of course, there is always that risk of him completely shutting us out, or him breaking down, but that's what you'll be there for. Your presence will reassure him and ground him."

"We understand," I respond affirmatively, squeezing my wife's hand. "And yes, you can talk to our son. My wife will wake him up now."

Felicity goes to the couch where TJ is sleeping. She kneels on the carpeted floor, slides an arm underneath his head, and lifts his upper body up to a sitting position. She embraces our son and whispers, "TJ… time to wake up, son. We have some very special people here who want to talk to you."

TJ blinks several times and squints to look at his mother's lovely face. "Mommy… Hug, mommy," our son softly murmurs. He whimpers for a moment, but it is soon quelled by Felicity's comforting hug. She picks him up and sits him on her lap, and I join them on the couch.

Agent Jareau pulls up a chair and sits near my wife, almost in front of TJ. Dr. Reid opts to sit on the floor with crossed legs, a couple of feet in front of our son.

"TJ, we'd like you to meet Agent Jareau. She's a good friend of your Aunt Sara, and she's come to help us catch the bad person who scared you and took your sisters," Felicity slowly and calmly speaks.

"Hi, TJ. You can call me JJ. Our names rhyme, don't they?" Agent Jareau begins to interact with our son, flashing him a winsome smile. "You know, I have a son back in Virginia. He's just about your age and he loves cars and trains and airplanes. Do you like those things?" TJ doesn't look at her, but he nods his head. It's good to know that this FBI agent is herself a parent and a mother. She must understand how Felicity and I feel, and she certainly has experience with kids.

"This here is her partner, Dr. Spencer Reid. He seems to be a very, very smart person." Felicity goes on to introduce the other agent to our son.

"Like you, Mommy?" TJ asks in his tiny, shy voice. His mother simply chuckles. It seems to me that we might be able to get our son to tell us something, because it appears he has begun to relax.

"Maybe so," Dr. Reid picks up from there. "See, I'm not really a cop or a detective. I'm a scientist, and a doctor who specializes in studying the way people behave. I'm sure your Mom is also a very intelligent person."

"She's a genius," TJ tells him with a faint smile. "And she's kind of also a doctor, a doctor of computers." Now, I am the one chuckling.

Agent Jareau grins at her partner and gives him the go-ahead.

"TJ, JJ and I are wondering if you could tell us anything about what happened earlier this afternoon." Dr. Reid pauses. "Did your Dad's secretary come get you and your sisters from day care?"

"Ms. Fei. Yes," my son replies softly and timidly.

"That's good," Dr. Reid rewards his response, though short, with approval. "Was Ms. Fei with anyone when she picked you up?"

"No. Just us."

"You mean Ms. Fei, your sisters, and you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. You're doing fine," Dr. Reid encourages TJ even more. "And where did the four of you go after you left day care?"

TJ grips Felicity's forearm and presses himself closer to his mother, burying his head in her bosom. I'm afraid he would begin to clam up and we'd get nothing more from him. He is certainly remembering something that's making him upset. But before long, he answers the question.

"The lobby… Near grandpa…"

Dr. Reid looks at me, clearly puzzled.

I clarify what TJ is talking about, telling him and Agent Jareau that my son must be referring to the statue of my father, Robert Queen, the founder of the company, which is at the lobby of the building. The statue is near the exit to the stairwell that leads to the basement parking.

"And then what happened?" Agent Jareau asks this time.

"There was a… uh… there was a…" TJ could not speak any further. He begins to cry and grips Felicity's dress, clearly terrified at the recollection of what he had seen and experienced. My wife hushes him, rubbing his back to comfort him and make him stop sobbing.

"Do we have to go on? I mean, this is upsetting him all over again," Felicity asks the FBI agents, her voice betraying that she, too, is getting upset.

"Honey, just give him time to breathe. He'll be fine," I say.

After some time, TJ calms down a bit. Dr. Reid stands up and asks me, "Mr. Queen, do you have a clean sheet of paper and some markers or pens, colored pens preferably?"

"Yes, I do," I answer. I stand up, unsure of what the doctor intends to do next. "Let me just go get them." I retrieve the items Dr. Reid is asking for, thankful that my wife and I did keep a box of art materials and toys in one of my desk drawers for when our kids come over and get bored waiting in my office.

When I hand Dr. Reid a pad of QC stationery and some colored markers, he kneels down in front of TJ and tells him, "What do you say we draw some pictures, TJ? Would you like that?"

Felicity smiles. She knows that this type of activity is something our son normally cannot resist doing and that he draws pretty well, especially for his age. "That's a good idea, huh, son?" she says to our little boy. Then she looks at the two investigators and says, somewhat proudly, "He loves to draw, and he's really good at it." Felicity puts down TJ, settling him on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table.

Dr. Reid gives him the stationery pad and colored markers and tells him, "Go ahead, TJ, draw some of your favorite things. JJ and I will talk with your dad over there."

He and Agent Jareau walk over to where I am, leaving our son with Felicity in the lounge area of my office. "We'll give him some time… let him calm down and just be himself," Agent Jareau tells me. "In a while we'll have your wife guide him in drawing anything he remembers from the incident." I nod my head in agreement.

TJ uses up two pages drawing random things – race cars, Thomas and His Friends, and a couple of commercial airplanes with their corresponding logos. Dr. Reid and Agent Jareau are quite impressed with his artistic skill and with the amount of detail he puts into his drawings. After tearing off the second page from the pad, TJ begins to draw our family.

On the left side of the stationery paper, he draws me in my dark blue suit, complete with a scarlet tie and a brief case. Next he draws Felicity, wearing a sleeveless, knee-length pink dress and black stiletto heels, her hair up in a ponytail. His mom and I are holding hands in the picture, and seeing that makes me smile. Then he draws Stephen in his basketball jersey, the name of his school's varsity team clearly printed across his older brother's chest. He draws Emily next in her favorite pair of blue jeans and purple hoodie, and then he draws himself beside his older sister, wearing his school uniform and holding his Ferrari model car in his hand. After this, he pauses, takes a deep breath, and glances over his shoulder to his mother. Felicity nods her head several times, prompting him to keep going; she moves to sit with him on the floor to further reassure him that he is doing just fine.

Much to our surprise, TJ does not draw his twin sister beside him. He draws Liv on the same piece of stationery, but away from the rest of our figures, near the rightmost side of the page. Next he draws his youngest sister Carrie, holding Liv's hand. The faces of both his sisters are sad, tears running down their cheeks. TJ looks up at his mother and says, "Our family." Felicity nods and says, "Yes." My wife takes the risk and pushes further, "Anything else you'd like to add to your drawing, son?"

TJ's head hangs low. His forehead between his eyebrows creases as he picks up a red marker. He chews on one end of the red marker and thinks for a while. He then starts to draw a woman on the left, beside Liv. The woman has black hair, and we assume he is drawing my secretary Ms. Fei, who wore a red dress to work today. After that he chooses a black marker and begins to draw a big, dark-haired man on the right, beside Carrie. He draws the tall guy in detail: black boots, fatigue pants, black turtleneck shirt and black leather jacket, a black patch covering his right eye, and what looks like a black duffle bag in his left hand. When he finishes, he looks up at his mother again. He points to the woman in the red dress and the man with an eye patch and says, "Not family."

Felicity taps TJ's shoulder lightly. "Good job, son. It's a really nice drawing." My wife looks at me and then at Agent Jareau and Dr. Reid. Her eyes tell me that she is really proud of our son's accomplishment but is, at the same time, worried that TJ's drawing has now definitely established that a villain had indeed taken our daughters.

"Do we have enough?" I ask the FBI agents.

Dr. Reid doesn't answer. Instead, he walks over to my wife and tells her, "Please ask him if he thinks the woman in the red dress and the man in black knew each other."

Felicity nods and proceeds to ask our son, "TJ, do you think this man in black is friends with this woman in red over here?" TJ stares intently at the two figures he had drawn, and then he nods his head.

I shut my eyes tight and grit my teeth. I shudder at the thought that my own secretary had a hand in my daughters' abduction, but the fear is soon taken over by anger. How could she do this? Why?! I go to my wife and son. As I crouch down to the floor and embrace them both, I can see Felicity's eyes welling up with tears. Her beautiful blue eyes aren't bright as they usually are; they are blurry with tears of pain, fear, and anger.

Just as Agent Jareau takes her phone from her pocket to make a call, presumably to her superior, TJ speaks up unexpectedly.

"Bad man. Very bad man," he says, pointing to the unnamed figure in his drawing. His voice is no longer soft and shy, and he has a very distinct frown on his face. "He called her stupid… again and again. That's bad isn't it, Mom? Stupid is a bad word." Felicity just nods and tells him to go on.

He does. Astoundingly, TJ breaks his silence and starts talking a lot like his sisters Liv and Emily, and Agent Jareau and Dr. Reid get so much more than what they had bargained for.

"And he pushed her. Really hard. She hit her head on the wall. That was when Carrie began to cry. He was mean and nasty and kept pushing us around. His voice wasn't so loud, but it was scary. And he talked funny." Our son is on the roll, and not one of us dares stop him. "The scary bad man didn't want me, Mommy. He told her to tie me up. I thought she wouldn't, coz… She's supposed to be our friend, right Dad? But she did anyway. And they… they put my sisters in a silver car and… they just… they left me there in the parking place. It was so dark and spooky. I was so afraid."

That's when TJ begins to cry again. This time, I am the one who hugs him. Just hearing what my little boy had seen and heard and felt broke my heart. "I think we're done here," I tell the two investigators. I lift my son up and carry him to the glass window of my office. I draw his attention to the skyline of Star City, pointing to our favorite places, hoping that this would make him stop crying.

"Thank you, Mr. Queen," Agent Jareau responds. "Your son is quite an artist. He has given us everything we need and more than we expected. You can actually take him home now, if you prefer, so he can rest."

The blonde agent then turns away and makes a phone call. I can hear her reporting all the information that they had gotten from TJ's testimony to Agent Hotchner. The conversation is on speaker phone, so that Dr. Reid could join in. After about five minutes, the call is ended.

"Mrs. Queen, Agent Hotchner says our technical analyst Ms. Garcia is ready with a secure channel and will get in touch with you on your phone and your computer shortly," Agent Jareau informs Felicity. "As part of your special arrangement of sharing vital information that could help with our investigation, he would like to ask you to also help Ms. Garcia find out how your company's security was breached and how the CCTVs in the ground floor had been tampered with. This could give us a better idea of the kind of un-sub we are dealing with."

"No problem," Felicity replies. "Would you also want us to try to get our son to draw the silver car so that you could better determine the make and model of the get-away vehicle?"

"That would be very helpful," Dr. Reid answers.

"I could also get a description of Ms. Fei's car and its plate number from personnel parking registry files. See if her car matches with my son's description," my wife adds.

"Mr. Queen, you certainly have one very smart and talented woman for a wife and business partner," Dr. Reid remarks.

I walk away from the glass window and put my son down as Dr. Reid compliments Felicity. I grin at the two agents, and then cast a wider smile at my wife. "Yeah, she certainly is remarkable." I move towards my wife and, pulling her by the waist, plant a chaste kiss on her lips.

Agent Jareau turns to her partner and says, "Reid, Hotch says that their investigations downstairs are winding up, too. They'll come up here in twenty minutes for a debrief. Once we put together all data from the investigations, and from what Garcia and Mrs. Queen can put together, we'll be ready to deliver the profile to local law enforcement."

"Can we join the debriefing and stay for when you deliver the profile? We sure would like to be kept in the loop," Felicity asks, short of interrupting the two FBI agents. She pushes our luck a little bit more, hoping for a favorable response.

"I'll have to clear that with Agent Hotchner first. But, I don't see why not. You're working the case with us anyways," the blonde agent answers.

It is going to be a very, very long night, but at least, we are beginning to uncover answers to so many of our questions.


	15. Technical and Moral Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there will be new leads, but also a new challenge to complicate matters. This one is told entirely from Felicity's point of view and features a brief but heartwarming interaction with Sara Lance-Merlyn.

Felicity:

It's been about thirty minutes since Oliver left to bring TJ home. We agreed that he should feed him a very late dinner, get him settled in bed, and check on Stephen and Emily. After that, he'd come back as soon as he can. I, on the other hand, had to stay behind because I have important work to do.

Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst of the BAU, began communicating with me via videophone and the Internet just minutes after Oliver had left. She's a sweet, adorable lady with a taste in fashion and accessories that was way more out-of-the-ordinary than mine could ever be. We shared a love – not only for anything pink and bright and colorful – but also for the world of IT. The first thing she said to me when the secure comms line between us became operational was that she is so thrilled to be working with me, even if the set-up is temporary.

Interestingly, Garcia – and I only call her by her last name because Agent Hotchner does so – mentioned that she had read my senior thesis on cyber-terrorism and homeland security and had found it utterly fascinating. I never thought that anyone working for the government actually read it, let alone used it. It's really great to know that at least one person in the FBI saw its value and recommended it to some of her friends who are technical analysts working in the Counter-Terrorist Unit (or the CTU) of the Department of Defense in both Washington D.C. and Los Angeles. It's wonderful to discover that, through my seemingly insignificant ideas, I had been able to render service to my country, however indirectly. I just wish someone had told me this before, or perhaps someone from the CTU could have at least had the decency to ask for permission to use my ideas even for matters of national security… And, yes… here I go babbling again.

Anyway, I had initially sent Garcia all the files QC has on Shado Fei, and she got to work on those right away in conjunction with anything else she could find out from government files – including the classified ones, which I have been itching to get my tech-fingers on (but obviously can't). So instead, I have spent the last half hour figuring out two things: 1) how the kidnapper and my husband's traitorous secretary were able to leave the building undetected, and 2) how in the world they managed to hack into QC's security network and tamper with the camera feeds. Garcia explained that these two things are crucial to finding out more about the un-subs that we are up against (but, of course, I already knew that). The sound of our fingers flying across the keyboard could be heard in our comms, and for the first ten minutes, we even had a bet going as to which one of us could dig up more dirt on the un-sub and the female accomplice.

So far, we have uncovered some important things, and we're just about ready to share them with Agent Hotchner and the rest of the team, who have been waiting for updates since they gathered for a debrief in the conference room more than ten minutes ago. Here's what Garcia and I have established so far:

One, Ms. Fei's real name was Mae. Her family did originate from Hongkong; however, it wasn't her but her twin sister Shado who had completed a short-term course in the "secretarial arts" there and recently immigrated to the U.S. only to meet an untimely demise due to a car accident just a couple of months before Mae got hired by QC. Mae had, in fact, completed a course in computer science before she immigrated to the States nearly seven years ago and has been moving from one apartment to another in the Glades ever since. So it turns out that Mae Fei did possess the technical competence to "steal" her twin sister's credentials and assume her identity. What we're still trying harder to unearth is what her relationship with the un-sub is, and what her motive is for aiding him. No matter how hard I rack my brain, I can't recall ever meeting Mae Fei before she became Oliver's secretary, let alone our family having done her or her family any wrong that would remotely rationalize revenge on her part.

Two, Ms. Fei hacked into the security network of the company straight from her desktop computer. As soon as I had traced the source of the security breach, I was enraged to find out that she had been doing her dirty work under our unsuspecting noses. Heaven knows for how long! (I should have followed my gut feeling and done a thorough background check on here earlier. I should have known better!) When I double-checked my discoveries in her computer, I confirmed everything, and worse. Mae Fei was an eavesdropper like me, but she was dangerously malicious and shrewd. She had been tapping into the camera feeds of Oliver's and my offices, as well as our conference room. Although she had tried to wipe out traces of her covert activities from her computer's history, I was able to retrieve the data, which reveal that her spying had been going on since her first week on the job. As my brain rewound itself over the past couple of months, my heart sank thinking about all the important business matters and private family moments (including a few instances of intimate moments my husband and I had shared) that this abominable woman had spied on. I had to pause for a while and make a promise to myself that when all of this is over, QC's security systems would be overhauled.

Three, employee records confirmed TJ's testimony. Ms. Fei indeed owned an old, silver Toyota Corolla registered with the DMV in Shado's name but in Mae's latest known address in the Glades. CCTV footage recorded between 7:30 and 8:00 in the morning confirmed that she had indeed entered basement parking in that vehicle and parked it in the same level where TJ was found. As soon as I found that out, Garcia relayed the information to Agents Prentiss and Morgan, who immediately inspected the area where her car had been parked for the day and attempted to re-enact how she and the un-sub might have accomplished their escape from there.

Four, street and traffic cameras in the vicinity of QC provided us valuable clues as to where the kidnappers went. They were heading southwest, away from the Glades, but Garcia lost visuals on the car after it crossed Feldman Bridge, which was one of the alternate routes people took if they wanted to leave the city in that direction instead of taking the freeway.

My heart was beating so fast in my chest when Garcia reported that to me over the comms. I had pleaded with her to let me run that search myself because I knew Starling City better than her and would recognize places when I see them (and really, it was more of because I've been anxious to find my daughters myself… and faster). But, she didn't want to get fired and lose what she described as "the most spectacular job in the FBI" – even if she wanted so badly to let me do it. So she declined, rather regretfully, explaining the harsh reality that I didn't have that level of clearance to be allowed to do something like that. She also warned me, rather gravely, that hacking into government stuff is a federal offense that would get me sent to prison for a long, long time. Thus, I resigned myself to wait (five minutes longer than I had to, had I been the one running the search) before Garcia got back to me with news about the sightings of Ms. Fei's silver car.

Now Garcia tells me that she has to report everything to her boss. I offer to put her on the big screen inside the conference room, and she most gladly accepts.

Walking past the glass sliding doors of the conference room where the BAU team, Sara, Quentin, Roy, and the two SCPD detectives are gathered, I announce, "Ms. Garcia is ready for the debrief, Agent Hotchner. I can put her up on the big screen for a video conference." The somber-looking man looked up and thanked me politely, a small smile turning up on his lips.

I set up the audio-visual equipment in the conference room in under a minute, and then the video call of Garcia comes through. I sit down on a chair in the corner of the room and listen keenly. No one seems to mind my presence.

First, Garcia reports Ms. Fei's true identity and her background in computer science. She had headshots of the twin Fei's up on the screen. I cringe upon seeing their identical faces. The only difference I could detect are the difference in the color of their eyes (Mae's are dark brown and Shado's were grayish brown), the difference in the hairstyle they wore when those pictures were taken, and the very slight difference in their jaw lines (Shado's was a bit more defined than Mae's). Other than that, the sisters look like one is a clone of the other.

"We cannot underestimate the technical capabilities of Mae Fei. Keep digging into her background, Garcia. See what you can find out about the circle of friends she keeps and follow any leads that suspicious liaisons might point to," Agent Hotchner directs my newest cyber-friend. He then turns to his team, "Prentiss, Morgan, take Dr. Reid with you and see what you can find in the woman's apartment in the Glades. There might be something there that could clue us in as to the identity of the un-sub she's working with, as well as their motives behind the abduction," Agent Hotchner says.

"Yes," Agent Rossi concurs. "Look for anything that could tell us where they could have possibly taken the Queen girls."

"Anything else, Garcia?" Agent Hotchner asks the energetic and enthusiastic lady, who is sitting pretty in her own little office in Quantico, Virginia, checking on the condition of her neon pink nails.

Garcia is startled a bit from inspecting her manicure, but goes on to report what the traffic cameras revealed about the whereabouts of Ms. Fei's car. Afterwards, Agent Hotchner instructs her to do two things: 1) run facial recognition searches on Mae Fei in the area where the car was last spotted on traffic cameras, and 2) find out from Mae Fei's phone records who she's been talking to in the last year or so, and if she has used her phone since the girls were taken so she could run a trace on its most recent location. As soon as Garcia's instructions are clear to her, the video call ends.

For me, though, it is just the beginning of my heightened interest in providing answers to the questions that Agent Hotchner asked his tech support to search for. It has begun to fascinate me how technical support can really help solve mysteries and criminal cases. It's just like those times I was working on my senior thesis. I remember well the thrill of online and digital investigating, and it is that same excitement I feel in my bones right now.

I picture myself doing exactly what Agent Hotchner directed Garcia to do. The procedure I would use and the steps I would take are clear in my mind, logical and sequential. Had I pinged Ms. Fei's phone, and if I could only hack into her service provider's or the government's communications systems, I could track and locate her in just a couple of minutes, three, tops. Unfortunately, this opportunity for me to provide vital tech support is far from my reach. I know Agent Hotchner wouldn't give me access to federal programs and government files even if I beg him to, even if I plead with him on account of my children's safety. And I definitely didn't want to break the law and go to jail by hacking into federal sites (even if I can). There is not much more that I can do but wait. So, I just sit quietly in my little corner, praying to God that these experts who look like they really know what they're doing would successfully find the answers and bring our children home.

Agent Hotcher turned to Quentin, saying, "Captain Lance, we'd appreciate the assistance of the SCPD in following leads on the silver car. The sooner we locate it, the sooner we can find the missing kids."

"I'll get my boys right on it," Quentin replied as he stands up. "Harper, get our tech staff to run searches on the silver Toyota in the vicinity of Feldman Bridge. Expand the search to a 10-kilometer radius and tell them to go back to look at footages since 4:00 pm. As soon as there's a verifiable hit, notify me," the veteran cop ordered. He turned to Farrell and Castillo and gave them another order, "Put out an APB on the car. I want every cop in the city and in the entire county keeping an eye out for it."

Quentin, Roy, and the two SCPD detectives immediately leave the conference room to carry out their orders.

Agent Hotchner directs his attention to his team once again. "Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, carry on. We'll call or send more information on the un-subs from Garcia as they come." The three agents stand up and leave after acknowledging their team leader.

"In the meantime," Agent Hotchner continues, "we need to give the media something to write and talk about so that they can disperse from this building as soon as possible and leave the family alone. JJ, draft a statement for the media regarding the missing Queen kids and run it by me in twenty minutes. I want you to speak in behalf of the family and the investigating team. Make it general and discreet." Agent Jareau immediately gets to work on her tablet.

"What do you want us to do, Hotch?" Agent Rossi asks, pointing a thumb towards him and Sara.

"The three of us will stay put and go over case files involving the Cradle Snatcher. See if there's anything we can tie up to this case, or if there's a detail we're missing. Something doesn't seem to add up," Agent Hotchner replies.

"You sense that too, huh?" Agent Rossi asks again.

Agent Hotchner just nods and begins to open case files in his tablet. "Let's get to work," he says.

"Why, Hotch?" Sara suddenly interrupts. "What is it that doesn't add up?" she asks curiously.

Agent Hotchner looks up from what he is looking at and answers confidently. "If I'm reading the Cradle Snatcher's profile right, it seems like it doesn't match the preliminary profile we are putting together on this un-sub that we're dealing with. The Cradle Snatcher has always worked alone; there is no evidence that he has ever worked with an accomplice. And he has never taken two girls at one time."

"What if he's evolving?" Agent Rossi responds to his colleague's theory.

"Yeah. Maybe he decided to up his game?" Sara asks a follow up question.

"On the contrary, this un-sub is sloppy. He's left too many clues behind – blood stain in the stairwell, the get-away vehicle, the boy as an eye witness. I'm almost convinced that this un-sub is not the Cradle Snatcher," Agent Hotchner answers.

He had no idea how comforting those words were to me. For the FBI to consider seriously that the vile serial killer is not the one holding my girls prisoners right now is such a relief. However, the relief is short-lived as Agent Rossi offers a different perspective on the matter, forgetting that I was still in the room.

"But what if the un-sub is just taunting us? I mean, after a series of successful abductions and murders over the past years that the police and the FBI haven't been able to solve, it is possible that he could have built up the brazen confidence to mock law enforcement, to prove that he would never be caught. We saw this in the Yarborough case in '09, didn't we? That psychopath was practically baiting the police and the Feds to catch him, intentionally leaving behind breadcrumbs for us to follow. And when we finally did get him, he put all his trophies and souvenirs of past murders on display right before our eyes. And his last victim didn't survive because we couldn't get to her in time. He was always one step ahead of us."

I gasp in horror. No. I cannot even consider that as a possibility or I'd go crazy! My quaking hand instinctively covers my mouth, and my eyes pool with tears. I try not to make a sound so that I won't interrupt them and make them send me away. I want to keep on listening for more information, but my chest is tightening and I'm finding it harder to breathe.

"That is a valid point," Agent Hotchner remarks. "But…"

"I know, Hotch," Agent Rossi says. "It's all speculation. I just didn't want us to back down this early just because we think this abduction may not be a Cradle Snatcher case. We might miss something."

"Duly noted," the team leader says.

"Could this be a copy cat we're dealing with?" Sara asks.

"I'd rather we wait for more information from Garcia and for what Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid can find out. Then we can decide and release a more accurate profile of the un-sub," Agent Hotcher concludes.

I don't know what to think anymore, so I decide to just stop. I take a deep breath and shift my thoughts on my other children – the ones resting at home… with my husband… whom I miss already. "I really should call and check on them," I say to myself.

I attempt to stand up to make the call using the landline on Oliver's desk, but my legs buckle. I come to my senses and feel the contractions in my lower abdomen and pelvic area. I slump back onto the chair as cold sweat appears on my forehead. I close my eyes and swallow hard, and then my breathing becomes shallow and shorter in between. The pain is excruciating, and it makes both my hands grip the armrests of the chair. When I open my eyes, Sara is right in front of me.

"Are you okay?" Sara asks, a worried look evident on her face.

"No," I reply. "The spasms are back."

"Spasms? What do you mean?" she asks again. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that she has absolutely no idea about what I've been going through in recent days.

"Sara…" I begin to explain in between shallow breaths, "I'm pregnant… but I've been having contractions…. The doctor says… there's a chance… this pregnancy might be aborted," I say with a heavy heart.

"Oh, Licity, I'm so sorry to hear that," Sara responds. She places a hand on my arm and squeezes it gently. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"With the pregnancy? I doubt it. I don't even know what to do," I reply with a mild chuckle, trying to make the situation lighter than it is. "You can help me get up, though. I'd like to rest on the couch. I think the commotion and all the sleuthing I've been doing is beginning to stress me out."

Sara helps me get back on my feet. She slides one of her arms around my waist and assists me in walking back into Oliver's office. Once she gets me settled on one of the couches in the lounge area, she takes her phone out of her pocket and makes a call.

"Oliver? Yeah, it's me. How are the kids?" Sara asks my husband. "Good... Listen, I think you should come back right away… Yup… She says she's having contractions again… Okay. See ya." She hangs up and says to me, "Oliver will be back soon."

Sara smiles at me and kneels down on the floor beside the couch where I'm lying down to rest. She takes one of my hands, and then she leans towards me with a wider grin on her face. I just know she's going to give me one of her speeches. "Licity," she begins, "please try not to worry too much. I know you're anxious for your girls. I know I am. I'm not yet a parent, but somehow I feel some amount of pain because of their disappearance and because of the uncertainty of finding them. I can't imagine how you and Oliver must feel. But you have another child growing inside you. You have to think about him or her too. Getting too wound up over this isn't good for you and the baby. And you have Stephen, Emily, and TJ to take care of as well. They need you, too… including the biggest baby of them all. You know what I mean?"

I smile faintly at Sara. I just love her. Over the years we have gotten close and she's become such a dear friend. In many ways she's like the sister I never had. I only wish I could have also known her older sister Laurel. Had she been just as nice and kind, brave and strong? What could it have been like to get to know my husband's ex-wife? I'll never know. All I know is that anyone who's ever loved Oliver and cared about him truly can be a friend of mine too.

"Yes, I know what you mean," I reply. The smile on my face tells Sara how much I appreciate her presence and moral support. "And yes, I will try my best to take it easy. I don't want to lose any of my children, and that includes this baby," I say as I place my hand on my belly. "Dr. Snow from the infirmary recommended that I go see my OB a.s.a.p. She says there are hormone drugs that doctors prescribe these days to prevent abortions in the first trimester… so I-"

I am rudely interrupted by a sharp, agonizing pain that radiates from my lower abdomen, going around my pelvis, all the way to my lower back. I can feel the muscles in my butt going spastic. I can feel my lower abs muscles tensing up, as if I am having severe menstrual cramps. I know it's no use going to the ladies room to relieve myself because nothing is ever going to come out, and because I now know that I shouldn't be pushing or anything.

Sara can see my anguish, and she begins to massage my forearm to make me feel better. "Oh, I just wish there's something I could do," she says. "Can't you take something for the pain?"

"No. It won't be safe for the baby," I answer. "I just have to bear with it. The contractions always wane after some time anyway." I shift a little bit to find a more comfortable position. "I could use some cold water," I say with a dry smile, trying to fight the awful feeling I am having.

Sara goes to get me a glass of water as I curl up on the couch, wrestling with painful contractions. When she comes back, I drink half of the water in the glass and then curl up again on the couch.

Several minutes pass and Oliver arrives. Oh, am I so glad to see him!

Oliver kisses me on my forehead and then kneels beside me. "Hey, how are you, Honey?" he asks lovingly.

"Contractions are back," I answer as I take his hand and our fingers are interlaced. I bite my lip to keep myself from barraging him with complaints about how terrible I'm feeling.

"Oh baby, is there anything I can do?" Oliver asks again as he kisses the back of my hand. His concern is evident in his voice and in his touch. Those alone do wonders to soothe me in times like this.

"Nothing much. Just hold my hand, Hun," I say, squeezing his hand. "Tell me about the kids. The distraction might help."

Oliver summarizes pretty much how Stephen, Emily, and TJ are. It's nice to know that Thea and Tommy are there to take care of them while we're occupied here. I learn that Diggle is downstairs helping with the investigations.

Oliver asks, in turn, about the things that have happened while he was away, and Sara does a marvelous job of getting him up to speed. A couple of times as she recounted the developments involving Mae Fei, the un-sub, and the get-away car, she and I exchange knowing looks, and she quickly picks up that I don't want her to get into disturbing details because – let's face it – we don't want Oliver Queen to go ballistic when he learns how fiendish the Cradle Snatcher is.

During our conversation, the contractions wane and stop completely. That's when I feel the need to visit the ladies room.

"Honey, could you help me up? I think the spasms are over, and I really need to pee," I say to Oliver, my right hand reaching out to him.

Oliver lifts me up with his strong arms and helps me put my shoes back on. Just as we start heading towards the door, Sara gasps in panic. Oliver and I turn to look at her. Sara is petrified and her mouth is slightly open, as if she is trying to tell us something but couldn't. Then she drops her gaze, shifting it on to the couch I had just been on.

On the fabric of Oliver's office couch is a very red and fresh blood stain. I'm bleeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh... How do you think this problem with the pregnancy will play out?


	16. Good News, Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where we get some answers - good ones and bad.

Oliver:

After more than an hour in the E.R. of Starling City General, I wheel Felicity out of the hospital towards the driveway where Diggle is waiting for us in a limo. I fold the pair of footrests and then I lift her up bridal style and carry her into the car, giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek. I slide in beside her in the back seat and cue Dig to bring us home to the mansion.

It is past midnight already, and my wife and I are very tired. Felicity falls asleep on the drive home. Her head rests on my left shoulder, and both her arms are wrapped around my left arm. I, on the other hand, can't sleep. All the tension that has built up in the last twelve hours is taking its toll on me, but right now, I am just so relieved that Felicity didn't have to be admitted and that our precious little one that's growing inside her is still safe. For now.

The O.B. resident-on-duty had called Felicity's own O.B., Dr. Elaine Watson, as soon as we arrived in the E.R., and the veteran doctor was more than willing to come and attend to my wife personally. Dr. Watson arrived thirty minutes later and immediately went to work, checking my wife's vitals, supervising the ultrasound technician herself, and giving various orders to nurses. After all the tests were done, she gave her diagnosis. The doctor said that Felicity was a bit further along the family way; based on the sonogram measurements, the baby is actually almost 7 weeks now. She also corroborated what Dr. Snow had explained to Felicity yesterday – that the contractions and the bleeding are indeed signs of threatened abortion. But she was also careful to give us a more positive prognosis – that this is not a hopeless situation, and that many expectant mothers who have similar problems go through the first trimester without having their pregnancies terminated naturally or otherwise. After writing out the prescription and the instructions for my wife's care, Felicity was discharged under strict orders of bed rest and a regimen of medications to make the bleeding stop and control the contractions in order to prevent an abortion.

By the time I came back from the hospital's pharmacy to pick up Felicity's prescription meds and buy her some maternity pads, a nurse was already helping my wife get down from the hospital bed and move to the wheelchair. Dr. Watson had pulled me aside and spoken to me privately. "Mr. Queen, I cannot overemphasize the importance of making sure that your wife really rests. I'm allowing her bathroom privileges for now, but just for a few minutes each time, and just because I saw the disapproving look on her face when I suggested that she use a bed pan. When she needs to shower, let her sit on a stool or a chair. Better yet, help her get in and out of the bathtub." The doctor's facial expression betrayed her misgivings, but she proceeded to tell me more. "For now, your baby's heart rate is normal for a 7-week-old, and that's a good sign. But I'm counting on you to keep your wife away from any kind of stress – physical or emotional. We do want this pregnancy to continue, don't we?" Dr. Watson smiled and then left after wishing us the best.

Thinking about the doctor's orders now brings me back thirty minutes before she Felicity was discharged. She and I were looking at the sonogram screen, gazing intently with misty eyes at the tiny, pulsating, white sac inside a dark space (which was supposedly her uterus). Our baby's heart is beating steadily, and it was a wonderful sight! That gripped my heart, filling it with hope for better days. This little Queen is partly her and partly me – yet another evidence of the oneness and intimacy that Felicity and I share, and I love him (or her) already, just as much as I love my wife and our first five children. This amazing feeling of "being a father all over again" brings joy in the midst of one of the most trying, most desperate times in the life of our growing family.

The last part of the doctor's reminders lingers in my mind now, as I muse about Felicity and the baby in her womb. "Keep her away from any kind of stress," Dr. Watson had warned, kindly yet sternly. How in the world would I be able to do that under the circumstances? At that moment, I play out a few scenarios in my head, but in each one, I end up arguing with Felicity to stay in bed and stop worrying about the girls. "This is harder than I thought," I tell myself. I'd have to knock out Felicity with a punch (or maybe just a sleeping pill, but that wouldn't be good for the baby) just to keep her from thinking about Liv and Carrie. I know my wife very well, and I'm sure she'd be insisting, rather stubbornly, on doing her share in what needs to be done to find and rescue our girls. I would really need the help of Thea and Roy, Dig and Lyla, Tommy and Sara, and maybe even Quentin to make her "stand down," as they say in the police force or the army.

Perhaps I should call Donna and Edward and ask them to fly out from Vegas to help take care of Felicity and the kids. Yeah, that might help. Felicity's mother Donna is the perfect ally; I can already picture her working her magic at taming my otherwise headstrong queen. A smirk forms on my face as the limo pulls into the mansion's driveway.

About thirty minutes after I had helped Felicity wash up and change into her pajamas, I tuck her into bed. I crouch down at her bedside and kiss her forehead. "Get some sleep. I love you," I say to her, and then I caress her lower abdomen and add, "and you," speaking to our unborn child. Felicity's eyes are barely open as she whispers, "I love you, too."

Just as I pull away from her, Felicity grips my wrist and says with eyes already closed, "Please, check on the kids. Good night." I look at her and I smile, telling her that I will do as she asked. And then just like that, she's asleep again. "Good morning," I whispered, kissing her forehead.

I go downstairs, straight to the kitchen to get myself a cold drink after checking on Stephen, Emily, and TJ. (They are now fast asleep. Thea is sleeping beside TJ in his room, with one of her arms wrapped around my little boy. She really is a wonderful aunt.) On my way to the kitchen, I notice the light in the living room. Curious, I go there and I find Tommy still awake, watching the news on TV.

"Hey," Tommy says as he sees me approaching. He turns off the TV. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You weren't here when we arrived," I answer.

"I must have been in the bathroom upstairs when you came in," Tommy says. "I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of occupying the guest room that I used to crash in many years ago. I thought I'd stay over and help Thea keep an eye on your kids. Sara's not going to be home anyway."

"No problem," I respond. "Thank you, Tommy, for everything," I say, coming to stand directly in front of my best friend who is sitting on a sofa in front of the TV. Although he and I had a falling out when my first wife Laurel – who was actually the first love of his life – passed away, Tommy and I had been able to pick up the pieces at just about the same time my relationship with Felicity began more than five years ago. And ever since he and Sara had gotten married, we'd been able to revive the closeness that we shared many years ago – of course, minus the clandestine escapades, the vices, the decadence and the womanizing that had characterized our teenage and young adult years.

"Don't thank me yet, Oliver," Tommy responds. "This crisis is not yet over. Thank me when your girls are safely home. Take note that I said when, not if. You will get through this, and your family will be together again. I just know it."

I extend my hand to Tommy and he grabs it, not just for a handshake. I pull him up, and we give each other a warm hug of hope. It's when we pull back from each other that Sara walks in through the front door and into the foyer. Seeing that Tommy and I are in the living room, she walks right in and joins us.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Tommy greets his lovely wife as he meets her halfway and pulls her in for an embrace.

"Oh… that feels so good," Sara says to Tommy. "Nothing like a hubby's hug at the end of a long day." Turning to look my way, she asks, "How are Felicity and the baby? It's a good thing she didn't get hospitalized. Not at a time like this."

"She's resting upstairs. She and the baby are okay… for now. The doctor gave strict orders to keep her away from stress. She's to be on bed rest for two weeks while she's under observation. The doctor also gave her meds for the contractions and the spotting, and wants her to come in for a check-up next week. I really hope this is all over by then," I explained. "Any news?" I ask with hopeful eyes as the thought of my darling daughters crossed my worried mind yet again.

"We've got new leads. Agent Hotchner actually sent me here to talk to you about urgent matters," Sara replies, as confidently as she usually is. Then she pauses, quite hesitant to continue, but she goes on anyway. "Oliver, I… I think you should sit down… and listen carefully to what I'm about to say."

I get the feeling that whatever Sara is about to say is going to be loaded. The three of us sit down.

Sara gave a rundown of what the investigators have found since Felicity and I left for the hospital. First, she said that Dr. Reid and Agents Morgan and Prentiss are still at Ms. Fei's most recent apartment in the Glades and are trying to find out as much as they can about her and her connection with the un-sub. But, Sara explains, it's taking them longer than usual to gather evidence and clues because the apartment looks like Ms. Fei hadn't been living there for quite some time; the place has obviously been cleared of anything that might give away more of her identity, background, and connections.

Fortunately, Ms. Garcia has been able to discover more about Mae Fei. Sara shares that Garcia did a more thorough background check on her – this time, following a hunch that she would find more information on the twin sister because of the clever identity switch that Mae had pulled off. Garcia found a police record of Shado Fei posting bail for a man named Jacob Spirelli soon after a complaint had been filed six years ago by Spirelli's next-door neighbor. The complaint was filed by a middle-aged woman who claimed that the man had been high on drugs and had assaulted her in the laundry room at the basement of their apartment building. Records show that as early as pre-trial, the woman had withdrawn the complaint, refusing to testify against Spirelli even when the prosecutor assigned to the case had assured the woman that the evidences against him were strong enough to put him behind bars for a long time. Sara thinks that Spirelli must have somehow managed to scare the woman into backing out, causing the assault charge against him to be dropped.

Sara further explains, "The team and I are sure that the woman who had bailed Spirelli out of jail was not Shado Fei but Mae Fei. Shado couldn't have posted bail for Spirelli six years ago because she had just recently arrived in the U.S. Mae must have been able to hack into the SCPD database and tamper with the police record to cover her tracks."

"Who is this Spirelli? What is his relationship with Ms. Fei? Does he have anything to do with my daughters' abduction?" I ask with heightened interest.

"With what we know from Garcia's BI, Spirelli is a notorious drug lord, dealing mainly in the Glades. He'd been able to evade arrest for years because no one risked testifying against him, until…" Sara stops and takes a deep breath.

"Until what, Sara?" I ask.

"Until his arrest a little over five years ago for the aggravated assault, attempted rape, and attempted murder of…" Sara looked down, and then looked me straight in the eyes. "…Felicity Smoak."

"What?!" Tommy exclaimed with wide eyes.

I, on the other hand, am just as wide-eyed but too dumbfounded to speak. The vivid memories of that fateful Christmas Eve in the Glades invade my mind like a fierce army charging to stake its claim.

I close my eyes at the memory of Felicity her torn blouse and skirt, lying helpless on top of the hood of her car, bleeding after that diabolical monster had stabbed her side. I remember crying out to Diggle for help because the bleeding just won't stop. I remember my hands shaking, just as they are now, as I begged Felicity to hold on to dear life while I drove her frantically to the hospital. I also remember the trial and court sessions where Felicity and I had to testify against that lunatic and his partner-in-crime, enduring the pain of recounting that despicable ordeal and the fright of looking at the faces of those villains twice, before they were finally convicted, sentenced, and incarcerated. After all these years, I can still remember well. That's why the name Jacob Spirelli sounded familiar during Sara's narration.

After a long silence, I look up at Sara and venture to ask, "Spirelli took our daughters to get back at us?"

Sara shakes her head. "No. Spirelli is dead. He died in a brawl in Iron Heights Prison barely a year after he arrived."

"I don't understand," I respond in confusion. Growing more livid by the second, I ask Sara, "Then… who is Ms. Fei working with? Who took our kids?"

"Ollie, he had a partner, remember?" Sara replied with a question.

"Yes, I remember. His name was Slade Wilson," I answer. My jaw stiffens as I grind my teeth, trying my best to keep my seething emotions at bay.

"Who?" Tommy asks.

Sara turns to her husband and addresses his curiosity. "Slade Wilson helped Spirelli and attacked Oliver that night in the Glades. He went to jail with Spirelli, but had been released on parole early for good behavior… almost a year ago." She looks at me again, trying to see how I am taking the ominous news.

"Slade Wilson kidnapped my daughters?" I ask the question not because I didn't know; it is because I couldn't believe that something terrible in our past, which we had already put behind us and moved on from, had come back to haunt us.

"It looks that way. I'm so sorry, Ollie," Sara responds. "Wilson must have hooked up with Mae Fei when he got out, and together they must have planned this whole thing."

"But why? Revenge?" It was Tommy's turn to ask a question incredulously, and Sara is more than ready to answer it.

"Both Mae Fei and Slade Wilson had motives for abducting Liv and Carrie. And that's to avenge the untimely death of Jacob Spirelli in prison. According to Garcia, records from U.S. Immigration Service reveal that it was Spirelli who had sponsored Mae's migration to the U.S. on a fiancée's visa sometime after they had met through an online dating service. Mae flew to the States soon after graduating from her computer science degree program in Hongkong. They never got married, though, perhaps because the engagement had just been a ruse to bring her over. But as soon as Mae became a permanent resident, she was somehow able to have her visa changed into a working visa, and then later into an immigrant visa. I figure, she must have used her extraordinary technical skills… again… to do that. She was later sworn into citizenship, after which she petitioned for her twin sister to also migrate here. She must have agreed to be Wilson's accomplice because she feels indebted to Spirelli."

"So you think Wilson is the mastermind and Ms. Fei is just his accomplice?" I ask once again, this time to clarify things.

"The team and I unanimously think so. Despite her technical prowess, Wilson doesn't consider her an equal. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been rough with her, in the way TJ narrated the incident at the stairwell when manhandled her and forced her to tie up the kids. It appears that Wilson is masterminding the whole operation and Mae is just a pawn, a means to an end."

"Which is…?" Tommy asks again.

Sara's gaze flicks from me to Tommy and then back to me again. "Wilson might have a slightly different vendetta. You see, he was stabbed, too, in the brawl at Iron Heights. He lost an eye trying to save Spirelli. This confirms and explains TJ's description of our un-sub." Sara pauses and reaches for my hand. "We think Wilson blames you and Felicity for their imprisonment, the untimely death of his partner, the tragic loss of his eye, and the fact that he hasn't been able to find a stable job and faces a bleak future as an ex-con. His hatred is what drove him to kidnap your kids."

I stand up and pace in the living room, my hands clenched and my thumbs rubbing against the knuckles of my forefingers. Tommy stands as well and attempts to calm me down, but Sara allows me the privacy of silence.

After a couple of minutes, Sara stands and walks toward me. She puts her hand on my arm and encourages me with these words: "Oliver, the team is doing everything we can to locate where Slade Wilson and Mae Fei are keeping Liv and Carrie. It's just a matter of time. We're going to get the girls back."

"Alive?" I ask, with a tone of voice that is higher and louder than my usual. "I mean, if he's out for revenge, then he doesn't need them alive, does he? It's not like he's after money!" I am anxious for my children, now more than ever before. I can't help but think about the kind of person Slade Wilson is, and the chances of getting our daughters back alive are getting slimmer.

"We don't think things are going to play out that way," Sara replies.

"You don't think? You're not even sure!" I retort with a loud voice. Anger and anxiety are a dangerous mix for me.

Tommy decides to step in. "Hey, you're not angry with Sara, Oliver. You're mad at Slade Wilson and Mae Fei. You have got to calm down and get yourself together."

My best friend's words shake and sober me up. I shrug my shoulders and apologize to Sara. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Ollie. No offense taken," Sara says to me. "I understand what you're going through. And believe me, I've seen worse." With a small smile on her face, she squeezes my arm in reassurance.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask.

"The team is working on getting a location," Sara answers. "Morgan, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid are still at Fei's apartment trying to find clues that could point us to where they're holding the girls. Agent Jareau has just finished giving the media a briefing about what reporters have been tagging as 'the missing Queen heirs.'" When Sara notices my eyes narrowing and my forehead creasing upon hearing that, she quickly added, "Don't worry, JJ had that covered. She made sure she didn't give the press any details that would jeopardize the investigations."

"Oh, and one more thing," Sara adds with a smile, "Everything we now know about Slade Wilson and Mae Fei have led the team to conclude that we are definitely not dealing with the Cradle Snatcher. Wilson's profile and his whereabouts in the last six years definitely do not match the serial killer's MO."

"That's good to know," I remark after letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"So basically, we're just waiting to find Liv and Carrie, right?" Tommy asks.

"Yeah. Maybe you guys should get some rest. I'll call you as soon as we have something," Sara advises. "I need to get back to the precinct."

"The precinct?" Tommy asks again.

"Yes. The team and the SCPD were wrapping up the investigations at Queen Consolidated just as I was leaving to come here. By this time everyone would have moved out and transferred the base of operations to my Dad's precinct," Sara explained.

Just then, my son Stephen appears in his sleepwear.

Stephen:

I woke up in sweat and tears because of a nightmare. In that bad dream, I saw my sisters Liv and Carrie in a dark basement. They looked haggard and terrified, and they were both crying. An evil-looking man appeared, but I couldn't make out his face because his back was turned against my view. The man was walking towards my sisters with a metallic baseball bat in his hand. My sisters' screams were what woke me up.

I was going to see if my parents were already in their bedroom, but as I walked down the hall, I thought I heard voices downstairs so I decided to take a look.

As soon as my Dad, Uncle Tommy, and Aunt Sara see me approaching, they abruptly stop talking about whatever it is that they don't want me to hear.

"Dad," I say, "what's going on?"

Dad walks away from Aunt Sara and Uncle Tommy and reaches out to me. He puts an arm around my shoulders and guides me to the sofa. "Your aunt, uncle, and I were just discussing the developments in the investigations. Why did you get up?"

"Bad dream," I reply with a frown on my face.

My father sits down beside me and reassures me that whatever it was, it wasn't real, and that everything is going to be okay. He then tells me about what happened to Felicity and asks for my help as the "next man in the house" in taking care of our dear mother. I promise him that I'll be stepping up during these tough times, and that I'll make sure my younger siblings won't give them both a hard time.

Just as Aunt Sara excuses herself to go back to the police station to rejoin the team of investigators, my dad's phone rings. Dad takes the phone from his pocket and answers the incoming call after three rings, pressing the speaker phone icon on the screen.

"Hello?" Dad says.

"Mr. Queen… thank you for taking my call," the voice on the other end of the line says. We distinctly hear the husky sound of an adult male's voice.

"Who is this?" my dad asks.

The man's subdued yet mocking laughter echoes, sending chills throughout my body. "Please, Mr. Queen, don't expect me to think that you really don't know who I am. I'm sure your FBI friend has already filled you in. I'm surprised you even have to ask."

"Slade Wilson." As soon as my Dad utters his despicable name, Aunt Sara brings out her phone and makes an urgent call. She scurries to the foyer, and I hear her ask for Agent Hotchner.

"See? It's not that hard to figure things out, isnt' it?" the scary man remarks.

"What do you want?" my dad asks again. The tone of his voice is a combination of rage, fear, tension, and courage.

At this point, I can't decide which conversation to pay attention to. I overhear Aunt Sara request her team leader to try to trace the call. I also overhear Slade Wilson's threats hurled at my dad, demanding that Mr. Queen meet him somewhere. It's all very confusing! My brain can't seem to process what is happening. My heart feels like it's ready to explode inside my chest any second. Uncle Tommy senses what I'm going through; he comes near me and just captures me in his arms to calm me down.

Unfortunately it took only a few seconds of calm in my uncle's arms before I am jolted again by my dad's angry shout. "No! My wife is not coming with me!" Dad roars.

"It's your choice, Mr. Queen," says the man. I can actually picture him sneering, mocking my father as he speaks. "You and your wife…at the abandoned mill ten miles west of Feldman Bridge…and no cops or Feds… or you'll never see your pretty little princess and your clever little genius again."

"No! I'll come alone. No uniforms, no agents," my dad says boldly. And then he pauses, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Please… my wife is not well. She can't come along. I won't let her."

"So nice of you to say 'please,' Mr. Queen," the man replies with sarcasm. "But I'm afraid I'm way past the pleading stage, and I'm not in the mood for negotiations or compromise. It's you and your beautiful blonde bride. Two grown Queens in exchange for two little Queens. Nothing more, nothing less. I can't wait to touch your wife's creamy, flawless skin. Jake always told me how smooth her thighs felt under his calloused palms." His voice trails off but is soon followed by another monstrous, fiendish, scornful laugh.

My dad's eyes are filled not just with tears but with rage as he lashes out, "You, son of a-"

"You don't get to curse or call me names today, Mr. Queen," the man harshly interrupts. And without a hint of hesitation, he fiercely threatens my dad one last time. "If you're not there at exactly one hour from now, I'll make sure the Cradle Snatcher gets the double delivery I offered him. You see, I've been a huge fan of his work. He and I have struck up an uncanny friendship quite recently. He appreciates the offer, you know. He says that'll make this year's job a lot easier for him. And tell your blonde FBI friend to hang up because they'll never be able to trace this call. Remember, Mr. Queen, no cops, no Feds, not even the shadow of your dark-skinned, well-built bodyguard. Your darling daughters are counting on you."

"I want to speak to my daughters!" my dad barked, but the call ended abruptly.

Aunt Sara hangs up as well. "He's right. Garcia couldn't trace the call. Says the signal kept bouncing from one cell site to another, and it was impossible for her to triangulate his location. Slade's technical assistance seems to have outsmarted the BAU's finest." I could see worry in her eyes, but courage and confidence are still written all over her face.

I turn to look at my father, who just sinks into the nearest chair and buries his tear-stained face in his hands. I've never seen my dad look so helpless, so defeated.

I break free from Uncle Tommy's arms and move closer to my dad. I kneel in front of him and take hold of both his arms with my hands. "Dad," I cry, "don't lose hope. Liv and Carrie need you. Mom needs you. We need you. You have to be strong. You can't let that man beat you or threaten us. You just can't!" Tears stream down my cheeks. I cup my dad's face in my hands as he looks up at me. "Please… Don't let him win. We can't let him win. You've got to make a choice, and whatever you decide, I know it's what you think is best for all of us. I love you, Dad."

My father takes me in his arms and says, "Thank you, son. When did you get so brave?" When he pulls back, I look him in the eyes, and I see those blue orbs glistening with pride and renewed determination. He says to me, "You stay here with your aunt and uncle, while I go upstairs and talk with your mother. Okay?" I reply with a nod, wiping my tears with my sleeve.

"Oliver? Talk to me, man," Uncle Tommy asks anxiously.

My dad just walks away stern-faced, without a word, and heads towards the stairs.

"Ollie, what are you going to do?" Aunt Sara asks even more anxiously.

"I'm getting my girls back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slade, Spirelli, and Mae Fei. I know in this chapter there are a lot of details to take in, but hey, at this point in the story it's having some more answers is a relief. Right? More answers to come in the next chapters, so I do hope you'll read on as we gear up for more suspense and action. Are you still with me?


	17. Trading Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity have a serious talk about Slade's ultimatum. They devise a plan with the help of two geniuses - a younger and an older one - and there are mixed emotions among family and friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Queen family is on the spotlight again in this chapter, most of it just dialogue, but I'm hoping you'll like their interactions (and drama). The next couple of chapters will feature more action as we head towards the climax and then finally the ending chapter. Have a good read!

Emily:

I wake up in the middle of the night. Looking at the digital clock on my side table, I realize that it's just a couple of hours past midnight. For thirty minutes I try, but I can't go back to sleep because thoughts of Liv and Carrie fill my mind. I miss my younger sisters terribly. I can hear Liv's rambles inside my head. I can picture Carrie's heart-warming, endearing smile. Tears begin to well up in my eyes again, so I decide to get out of bed and seek comfort in the company of my Aunt Thea.

My feet take me to TJ's bedroom because I remember that she decided to stay with him until he fell asleep. But when I get to my younger brother's room, I find him sleeping alone on his bed, comfortably tucked under his fluffy Star Wars-themed duvet. I close the door quietly so as not to wake him. I check my older brother's room, but there is no sign of Stephen or Aunt Thea there as well. Where could they be?

I walk down the hall, thinking to look for them downstairs, but I run into my dad.

"Dad, you're home," I say, meeting him as took the last step up the stairs. I stand on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he bends over to receive it. "Is Mom home, too?" I ask.

"Yeah, she is. She's been asleep for about an hour now, but I'm about to wake her up because we need to talk about something very urgent," Dad replies. "Is something wrong, Ems? Can't sleep?" he asks me.

"I woke up a while back, but I can't go back to sleep. I keep thinking of Liv and Carrie," I answer. Dad puts his arm around my shoulder. "May I see Mom?" I ask again.

Dad nods and says, "Sure, angel. Come and give her a hug." He smiles down at me as we both start walking towards their bedroom. I smile back at him, grateful that he granted my request.

Dad had come home last night with TJ and helped him get ready for bed. He was glad that Aunt Thea volunteered to stay with TJ until he fell asleep. When he was sure that both of them were settled in bed, he had called me and Stephen to his study for a serious talk. First, he explained to us that the police and the FBI agents were still doing everything they can to find our sisters. He also told us that TJ's eye witness testimony had confirmed that Ms. Fei had indeed been working with the kidnapper who took our sisters. (Learning that Dad's secretary is a traitor really made me mad. We were starting to treat her like family!) He then explained that our baby brother had gone through a very traumatic experience, and that he needed our help to make sure nothing else scares TJ. He needed us to help get TJ's mind off the frightening events of the day.

Finally, Dad looked at me and revealed the news of our mom's pregnancy, which Stephen had already learned about earlier. At first, I felt excited that we were going to have another sibling coming, and I wondered whether I liked for this new Queen to be another sister or another brother. But when my dad shared that Mom's condition is quite fragile and that her pregnancy this time around involved risks, the excitement was taken over by a troubling concern for her safety, as well as a sincere longing for the baby inside her to make it through to the ninth month. Dad asked me specifically to be Mom's personal assistant, especially as she is supposed to be on bed rest for a couple of weeks or more. I promised our dad that I would do my best to be our mother's reliable helper.

When Dad gently opens the door to their bedroom, we see that Mom is already awake. She is sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, her head bowed, and her hands folded together on her bosom. Mom seems to be praying, uttering almost inaudible pleas for miracles in between snuffles and teardrops that are beginning to soak the sheets. As soon as she hears the door open and our feet shuffling into the room, she winds up her prayer and dries the tears on her face with the sleeves of her shirt.

Mom looks up at us. "Hey, Ems. What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't sleep, too?" she asks.

"Uh-huh," I reply. I join her on the bed and snuggle up to her as we both lean back against the headboard. "I keep thinking of Liv and Carrie," I confess to her.

"Me too, Ems… me too," Mom says. She wraps her arms around me and says, "We'll just have to trust God that everything will be fine. We can't lose hope. He's going to help us get your sisters back. We may not see how right now, but deep in my heart, I believe it."

Dad comes near us and plants a chaste, comforting kiss on her lips. "How long have you been up?" he asks Mom.

"Not long. Any news?" she asks Dad.

Dad shifts his gaze from her to me and says, "Emily, maybe you should go downstairs where Stephen, Aunt Sara, and Uncle Tommy are. Mom and I need to talk about something very important."

"Okay," I say. I kiss my mom on the cheek and give her one last hug, and then I get off the bed and start walking towards the door. As I look over my shoulder and see my dad sit on the bed beside my mom, an idea pops into my head. I step out of the room, but I don't close the door behind me entirely. I leave it about a centimeter open, and my parents don't seem to notice it at all. I lean backwards against the wall just beside the open door, and I slide downwards until I am sitting on the floor, tucking my folded legs close to my chest. I eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Honey, I'm afraid I have some… very disturbing news," Dad begins to tell her. Mom doesn't respond; she stays quiet. Dad tries to cover up the dread he is feeling, but the shaky tone of his voice betrays his anxious emotions. He clears his throat, and after a brief pause, he continues to speak. "The investigators have found out that Mae Fei was vitally connected to a drug lord in the Glades named Jacob Spirelli, and the kidnapper she is working with now was Spirelli's partner, Slade Wilson. Those men were… they were…" Dad's voice fades. He did tell me and my brother that the doctor specifically warned him about keeping our mom away from stress, and now he probably doesn't know how to continue what he needed to say without causing her unnecessary alarm.

However, Mom seems to already know what's coming, and she is brave and strong enough to finish what he was trying to tell her. "Those were the men who attacked me and Emily, and tried to kill me five years ago," she says without a moment's hesitation. She is quiet for a while and impressively, quite composed.

I, on the other hand, begin to tremble a bit upon hearing those frightening words – a words that conjure up terrifying memories of that night in the Glades when I had been stuck inside Mom's car, watching her almost raped and then stabbed by that monster of a man. I chew on my lower lip to keep myself from saying something that would draw their attention to the very slightly open door where I'm sitting, listening in.

"I remember their faces and their names very well… from the trials," Mom adds. And I believe her because our mother is really, really good with faces and names. "But how is that possible? Aren't they supposed to be still in prison?" she asks.

"Spirelli is dead. He died in a brawl in prison, but Wilson has been out on parole for almost a year now," Dad answers.

"How come we were never informed that he got out?" Mom asks, puzzled and a bit agitated at the news.

"That is unclear. Although… with Mae Fei's hacking skills, I wouldn't be surprised if she had somehow managed to tamper with documents and communications concerning Wilson's parole on purpose, in order to keep us in the dark. The point is, Sara and Agent Hotchner's team think that Wilson and Fei both have motive for the abduction."

"Revenge."

"Exactly."

"So, they're not interested in money. They're really after you and me."

"I'm afraid so. The ugly part is that Wilson claims to be somehow connected to the Cradle Snatcher and…" Dad stops, seemingly hesitant to keep going.

"And what?" My mom's voice breaks a bit as she asks with apprehension.

"Felicity, Wilson called me using an untraceable phone. He wants a trade, demanding that we rendezvous with him in an abandoned mill east of Feldman Bride… in an hour… without the police or the FBI… or he'll…"

"He'll what?"

"He wants us to trade places with our daughters. Two grown Queens for two little Queens. That's what he said. If we don't, he says he'll deliver Liv and Carrie to the Cradle Snatcher and we'll never see them again."

Silence. That's what follows my Dad's revelation of Mr. Wilson's horrendous, gruesome threat.

After a full minute, I hear my mother say resolutely, "Oliver, we have to go. We have to get our girls back. Give me a few minutes to get ready."

"I'll go, but you… you can't," Dad tells her softly. "The baby…. You can't. It's too risky. We're not even sure if Slade Wilson will keep his end of the bargain. What if we end up losing both our daughters and our unborn child? And what if I lose you, too?"

"Oliver, we can't afford to think that way right now. I'm well aware of the risks involved, but what choice do we have? This is Liv and Carrie we're talking about. Our kids! If trading places with them is what it takes to make sure they'll live and stay safe, then I can't think twice about it. I won't. We can just figure out what you and I should do to survive once we're there. We're grown-ups. Whatever Slade Wilson intends to do to us, we can take it… But Liv and Carrie? I can't bear to think about what they'll have to suffer in the hands of a sick serial killer! I don't think I'd be able to live with myself knowing that I didn't even try!"

"I can take whatever Wilson has in mind to do. But you? No. I can't watch you suffer, Felicity. And not with our baby inside you. That's something I won't be able to live with for the rest of my life. I'm going alone, whether you like it or not. I have to keep the rest of my family safe, even if it means that I might not come back to you. That's the only sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Dad's voice shows his deep love and resolve. Mom's response, on the other hand, shows sheer frustration.

"Then why did you even bother to tell me all of this if you've already made up your mind?" my mom asks with her loud voice, the one that our family is all too familiar with, the one she uses when she's upset about something. Right now, she's obviously infuriated by my dad's decision.

"I'm telling you because I want you to be clear about the choice I'm making… just in case I don't make it back!" Dad responds with an equally loud voice. When my mom does not answer, he seems to sense that he may have to control his emotions so as not to upset her any further, so his voice softens as he continues. "Felicity, I want you to understand… I need you to understand…" Dad's voice cracks as he speaks; clearly, he is starting to cry.

"I love you very much, Felicity, more than my very life. You and our children… my family is the most precious thing I have in this life. If I lose you, any of you, I… I don't know how… I can't…" Dad is speaking in sentence fragments with a slightly raspy voice, trying hard not to break down in front of Mom.

"Oh, Oliver…" Mom responds bitterly. "I do understand. You're a good man. I know you'd do anything, anything to keep me and our children safe, and I love you all the more for it. But… aren't we in this thing together? Isn't it the whole point of marriage to go through the toughest times together? Didn't we promise to be there for each other, for better or for worse? This certainly is worse! And I won't let you do this alone. Please. Please let me help you get our girls back. There has to be some way to ensure that we would all be safe. There has to be!"

"There is!" I exclaim, pushing their bedroom door wide open. I can no longer keep silent, so I interrupt my parents' melodramatic arguing, taking a chance that they would get mad at me for eavesdropping and interrupting their private talk. I'd been listening for a while now, and I want so badly to be able to offer an alternative solution to their dilemma. "I want to help find my sisters. Please give me a chance to explain?" I plead.

Oliver:

I didn't realize that Emily had been listening to our conversation just outside the door. I could be furious at her for eavesdropping and for barging in. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and if Emily could offer a better solution, then I am all ears. I am not about to reprimand our resident genius for seriously wanting to help out, especially because she clearly wants to help find her sisters.

"Come on in, Emily," I say to her, and she moves closer to me and Felicity.

As she sits down on the bed beside her mother, she confidently shares her suggestion. "I think there might be a way out of this where everyone comes home in one piece. If the first and most urgent thing is to ensure that Liv and Carrie are safe, then you will agree with me that both of you will have to let yourselves get traded for them. And no cops, no FBI on site. It appears this loathsome Slade guy is serious about his threats, and we'd be foolish to think he's only bluffing. We can't risk it, not when my sisters' lives are at stake."

"Go on," Felicity says to Emily.

"The immediate goal is to get our girls back in one piece. When they're safe, that's when you can think about risks and sacrifices." Emily's reasoning is making a lot of sense to me. "Mom, don't you have any special tech in QC that you can take with you so that the Feds can easily track you and rescue you once you're taken?" Emily asks her mother.

"I suppose there is. I can check the inventory of the Applied Sciences Division," Felicity answers, already reaching for her tablet and accessing the files of that department.

Emily goes on to say, "The tech has to be something that doesn't attract attention, something Slade won't suspect. Obviously, it'd be useless to ping your phones because Slade would most probably get rid of your phones anyway. The tracker should be in something that's on you, Mom, and another on you, Dad, just in case the two of you get separated."

"Let's see," Felicity says, as she works on her tablet. "I think we have just the right tech. Curtis Holt, one of our senior staff in the division, has recently developed a tracking device that's as small as a pinhead. I think we can attach one in my earring and another on your Dad's… uhm…" Felicity's voice trails off. She frowns. She couldn't think of where the tracker could be placed on me.

"Well, you can't put the tracker on Dad's belt, or any part of his clothes or shoes, right Mom? Coz what if Slade makes him take them off?" Emily asks.

"I don't even want to think about that… but yes, you're right, Ems," my smart wife answers her smart daughter. It's amazing to just watch them working together and coming up with something clever.

Just then, I think of something. "What about if we put the tracker in my wedding ring? Will that work?" I ask my wife.

"Maybe," says Felicity. "I'll have to call Mr. Holt right now. He'll need to work on it in the lab… and fast. He'll have to weld it into the inner part of the ring."

"I think that's a good idea," Emily remarks.

"Call him now, Honey. We don't have much time. Slade said an hour. And we've already used up fifteen minutes of that time just arguing and talking."

As my wife picks up her phone from the night table and dials Curtis Holt's number, I head downstairs and inform Sara of our decision and plan of action. Sara offers to drive me to QC and fifteen minutes later, Curtis meets us in the Applied Sciences lab of QC. The tech guy – who is just wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a plain white shirt, and a black hoodie – must have scampered to the lab hurriedly at his bosses' request. It's a good thing he lives in an apartment building that's only a few blocks away from QC. It takes him only five minutes to secure the tracking device and under fifteen minutes to weld it into my wedding ring and my wife's earring. After thanking Curtis, he shakes my hand and expresses his sincere wish that we get our girls back safely. Sara drives me back in record time to the mansion, where the SCPD and the FBI are already waiting.

I think our plan will work. It has to.

Felicity:

By the time Oliver and Sara return with the tracking devices perfectly installed in the ring and earring, everyone has already been in our home for about thirty minutes – Agents Hotchner, Rossi, and Jareau from the BAU, and Captain Lance, Roy, Detectives Farrell and Castillo, at least a dozen cops from the SCPD. Even Thea is now in the living room where the hustle and bustle is taking place, listening attentively to the discussions and briefings with Tommy, Stephen, Emily, and me.

"Felicity, I'm really not comfortable about all this," Quentin expresses his sentiment with a vigorous shaking of his head.

"Neither am I," Tommy remarks, with a wary look in his eyes. His gaze shifts from me to Oliver and then to his wife Sara.

I can't deny the feelings of fear and uncertainly that's tucked away somewhere in the recesses of my mind and heart. The possibility of my husband and I getting hurt or not coming home to our children is like a dark cloud of dread hovering over me. But right now, courage and determination are the bright light that's pushing the dark cloud away, driving me and my husband to take this leap of faith that's needed to rescue our daughters. So I tell our family, "Oliver and I understand the danger and the risks involved in this rescue mission, and quite frankly, I'm not completely comfortable with it too. But we have to do this. We can't take chances and jeopardize the safety of our girls."

"I understand where you're coming from, Felicity. Believe me, I do," Quentin replies. "But this isn't how it's done. I've been with the SCPD for more than three decades, and we don't dangle defenseless civilians as bait without police back-up. This is crazy!"

"We won't be defenseless for long, Dad," Oliver argues politely, pulling me close to his side by sliding his arm around my waist. "The trackers will help you find us. You can get to us as soon as you recover Liv and Carrie. We'll be fine."

"Fine? Right!" Quentin fumes with sarcasm. "I've seen enough body bags in my crime-fighting career to remind me of how fatal it can be to give in to the demands of scumbags and criminals!" Quentin retorts, evidently upset about the plan that could get me and my husband hurt. Or killed.

"Dad..." Sara interrupts the argument, hoping to cool things down a bit. "You worry too much. They'll be fine… because the best team of the FBI is on top of this, and of course, the SCPD's finest will do its best to recover them. You have to believe that. We all do." Sara puts her hand on her father's shoulder and then runs her palm up and down his arm to comfort him. Oliver and Felicity know what they're getting into, and at this point, I don't think there's anything we can say or do that would change their minds."

Roy adds, "Sir, we're all behind you on this."

Quentin simply shrugs his shoulders at this, seeing that he is noticeably outnumbered. "I still disagree with you," he says, turning to me and Oliver, "but I respect your decision and will back you up one hundred percent." He then puts a hand on my husband's shoulder and affirms Oliver, "I admire your courage, son. Laurel would have been proud of the man you've become."

Oliver and I smile at Sara, Roy, and Quentin in appreciation for their support and encouragement, as well as for their active involvement in the operation that will be going down in about ten minutes. There will be four vehicles in the convoy that will escort us from the mansion. Sara will be in one of the two FBI SUVs, while Roy and the two police detectives will be in one of the two SCPD vehicles. The escorts will bring us as far as two miles away from the abandoned mill where we are supposed to meet Slade Wilson for the trade, and will wait there for Agent Hotchner's signal to move in on Wilson. From that point on, Oliver and I are on our own.

Stephen:

The moment Mom put on her earring and Dad slipped his ring back onto his finger, I knew there was no turning back. Emily's idea is brilliant, sure. But it is also very dangerous. I could think of only one reason Mom and Dad would even consider doing such a thing – they love their children and value them more than their very lives. I've never been more proud of my parents, and I can only hope that, when I grow up to be a man with a family of my own, my wife and I would be just as brave as them. But I've also never been so fearful in my life. Liv and Carrie had gone missing, and that was already scary for me. But now, as I look at the FBI team and the police detectives discussing last minute details of the operation with my parents, I realize that this could be the last time I will ever see them alive.

So, I run up the stairs and dash to my younger brother's room. I scoop TJ up in my arms and hurry to bring him downstairs. Emily meets me at the foot of the stairs, asking, "Stephen, what's going on?"

"Emily, we don't know for sure what's going to happen next. We could be orphans in the morning," I reply, looking my sister with a sense of urgency. "Let's send Mom and Dad off together. We have to let them know that we love them and we trust them… now, more than ever."

Emily nods, biting her lower lip, tears forming in her eyes. I can tell that she is just as overwhelmed with a mixture of pride and fear for our parents. She then pulls me by the arm, goading TJ and me towards Mom and Dad. She is the first one to crash into our mother's arms, already sobbing as she clings to Mom's shirt, telling both our parents how much we love them. TJ is still half awake, but I am able to make him kiss our parents and whisper a soft "I love you" to them. I then hug our dad and tell him how proud I am of the man that he is, and that I'm counting on him for our family to be together again. Mom and Dad assure us that they love us more than anything in the world. They both promised to be extra careful and to do everything in their power to come home alive and well. It feels like time stands still as we huddle together, hopefully not for the last time.

Our group hug is broken by Agent Hotchner's voice. "It's time, Mr. Queen. You have less than ten minutes left to get to the rendezvous point. You need to hurry."

I let go of my dad's arm. Emily doesn't let go of our mom's hand even as Mom begins to walk away. At the last second before she lets go, she gives Mom's hand a tight squeeze as her teardrop falls onto the solid oak flooring of the foyer.

Our parents walk out of our home and slide into their silver BMW that Uncle John had parked in the driveway before he, too, joined the convoy of policemen and agents. The front door closes behind the last policeman, and the SCPD squad cars' sirens fade away into the distance.

Emily, TJ, and I are left standing in the foyer with Uncle Tommy and Aunt Thea. I whisper a silent prayer, "Dear God, please… bring our parents and our sisters back." My sister Emily takes my hand and, after letting out a deep sigh, says, "Amen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about you, how do you feel about Oliver and Felicity's plan to trade places with the Queen girls? Do you think it will work? Or is Captain Lance's gut feel worth listening to?


	18. Rendezvous Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity meet Slade in exchange for the release of their daughters while the FBI and SCPD are on standby. Meanwhile, the kidnapped girls become witnesses to something that complicates their kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we're heading up to the climax and we'll be done in just a couple of chapters. I hope you enjoy this one, which is told from multiple POVs - Oliver's, Sara's, Roy's, and little Liv Queen's. Enjoy! And please do leave your reviews and comments to let me know how the story has been for you.

Oliver:

My hands are tightly clenched, locked in a death grip on the steering wheel of our silver BMW. We've been on the road to the rendezvous point for about seven minutes now, but for me, the clock isn't ticking as swiftly as I want it to. I just want to see our daughters again soon and safe, come home with my wife, and we could be a family again.

We had passed Feldman Bridge a short while back. On the rear view mirror and the side mirrors, I could see the reflection of the red lights of the police vehicles behind us, flashing brightly in the blackness of night. But in less than a minute, the flashing lights are barely there. I realize that the cops are falling back as we push on. This is as far as they go. The FBI vehicles in front of us also begin slowing down, and then one by one they pull over on the shoulder as the concrete road ends where a dirt road begins. As we pass their black SUVs, one of the windows is open, and I see Sara waving at us with an encouraging smile on her face. I slow down a bit as we pass her vehicle. I nod and smile at my sister-in-law and give her a thumbs-up sign.

As I turn back to look at the road ahead once again, I hear Felicity groaning, her arms wrapped around her lower abdomen.

"What's wrong, Honey? The contractions are back?" I ask.

"Uh-hmm…" she replies, nodding her head slightly. Felicity takes slow, deep breaths with her mouth.

"Are you going to be okay? I can pull over and have a look at you," I ask her again.

"No!" she suddenly blurts out in spite of the pain she's currently in. "Don't stop. Don't slow down. We won't make it to the rendezvous point in time. We're already running a bit late as it is. Slade Wilson might leave and change the terms of negotiations. And who knows what those diabolical demands are going to be? I just want our girls back so bad. Don't worry, honey. The contractions will die down soon, so just… Step on it!"

There can be only one Felicity Smoak Queen, master of the art of babbling. Even in the most desperate hour, even in the face of untold danger, and even in the midst of severe physical pain, my beautiful wife is able to release a storehouse of words accompanied by animated gestures that somehow manage to make her look so adorable and to make me chuckle even under tremendous stress. All I can say to her with a slight grin is, "Yes, dear!" I step on the gas as ordered, and soon an old, abandoned mill looms straight ahead where the dirt road ends.

It is really dark all around. There are no more street lights this far out from Starling City. If not for the dim moonlight, it would be pitch black. The only sounds l hear are coming from some crickets in the woods on the other side of the road, from the engine of our car, and from the heavy breathing of my wife.

I park the car by the road side, but I don't turn off the headlights just yet. I then help my wife get out of her side of the car. Felicity's hands are still trembling and clammy, and even in the dim light of the evening sky, I can see that her lips are quite pale.

She looks into my eyes and smiles reassuringly at me. "I'll be fine," she whispers, cupping my cheek with her soft hand and rubbing my scruff with her thumb. "Let's go." She manages a genuine smile. Her contractions may be waning now.

At first glance, it seems like Felicity and I are the only ones there. But as we move to stand a few meters in front of the car, facing the façade of the dilapidated mill, a black van without plates emerges from the open garage of the abandoned structure. It approaches us slowly and then comes to a full stop in front of us, about twenty feet away. The shadowy figure of a well-built male gets out of the driver's side. I have to squint just to see if I can recognize him as Slade Wilson, but the blinding lights of the van's headlights are making that very difficult to do.

"Glad you could make it, Mr. Queen," the man says in his dark, husky, accented speech.

It is Slade Wilson.

He saunters closer to my wife and me. His hands are in his pockets. And as he comes to stand about six feet away, I get a clearer view of his face. He is sneering, not just with his lips, but also with his paradoxically wicked "good eye."

"I've done what you asked of me. Now give us the location of our daughters," I tell him as calmly as I could. Anger and fear are burning inside my chest, but my mind – that part of me that reminds me to cool down and focus on how to recover our children in the safest possible way – steadies my nerves.

Slade tilts his head to the side and shifts his focus on Felicity. He looks at her lustfully, in a way that makes my skin crawl, scanning her frame from head to foot and back. I stretch out my arm to my wife and motion for her to get behind me. He is not laying a hand on the most precious woman in my life. Not if I can help it.

"I am a man of my word, Mr. Queen," Slade responds arrogantly. "But first things first. I need to make sure no one else is listening in. I really hate bugs."

He walks closer to me and then pulls out a gun from the inside pocket of his black leather jacket. He motions for me to lift my arms up, and then he frisks me to check for any type of device planted by the police or the FBI. "You're clear," he says wryly, and then he looks at Felicity who is still standing behind me. He prompts her to lift her arms up so he could frisk her. "Your turn, Mrs. Queen. May I?"

Felicity steps forward to stand beside me. She looks at me for a sign of approval, and when I nod and blink, she knows she has it. She lifts her arms sideward at a forty-five-degree angle, and soon Slade Wilson's hands are frisking my wife's abdomen and the sides of torso. I could see the scoundrel's dirty hands slowly snaking around her waist, lingering at her lower back, and then moving downwards to her ass. Felicity suddenly gasps, swallows hard, and closes her eyes shut upon sensing this abhorrent violation on her person, yet in a split-second she flicks her eyes open to glare at me.

My wife knows me all too well. She knows that I am just about ready to spring towards the man and punch him in the face for what he's doing to her. The glare is her way of stopping me from an impulsive act that could jeopardize the rescue mission to recover our daughters. She mouths a soundless "It's okay" as tears form at the corners of her eyes.

Slade leans forward, his hands still on my wife's ass, and whispers softly yet audibly enough for me to hear, "Jake was right," he taunts, hissing like a snake. I almost lose it, if not for Felicity's hand grabbing my arm and squeezing me tight.

The despicable man lets go of my wife and steps back. He turns to me and mocks, "Thank you for bringing your lovely wife, Mr. Queen. Now we can really have some fun." He lets out a fiendish laughter.

My wife presses her body against my side, and I feel her shiver in fear at his threat. So I put my arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to comfort and reassure her that I will do everything I can to keep her from harm's way. She wipes away the tear that escapes her eye.

"Cut the crap, Slade! I've done everything you asked. Now tell us where the police can find our girls!" I growl, trying hard to rein in my rage. Sure, I'm angry… angry enough to strangle the man right in front of me with my bare hands, but I didn't want to piss him off before he gives away Liv and Carrie's location. Roy and Sara specifically hammered that detail into my head just before they let me drive away from the mansion.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Queen. I waited patiently while you took your own sweet time and arrived here almost five minutes late! And this rude behavior is what I get?" Slade replies. "In spite of what you might think of me, I am a fairly reasonable person. I do keep my end of the bargain."

Slade stretches his hand towards me and says, "Pull Captain Lance's number from your contacts list and hand me your phone, Mr. Queen… nice and slow." He then looks at my wife and adds, "You, too, Mrs. Queen." Felicity hands me her phone and I step forward to give Slade both our phones.

Slade throws my wife's phone on the ground and steps on it, crushing the I-phone into pieces. He then makes the call to my father-in-law. After one ring, Quentin picks up.

"Captain Lance," Slade begins his brief speech, "your son-in-law is a very obedient man. You will find the girls…and Ms. Fei… in the Bates Motel just off the old highway heading north towards Seattle. And you might want to hurry. The little lady with the touch for technology may not have much time." Slade once again laughs devilishly just before he cuts the call. He then drops my phone on the ground and once again crushes it underneath his boot.

The Bates Motel. I know where it is. It's one of the inns in the old highway cutting through Oregon and leading all the way up to Washington State. It closed down way back in the 90's when the business went bankrupt after the new freeway was constructed. But it's on the other side of Starling City. On the one hand, I'm starting to feel some relief knowing that the SCPD are probably now headed towards that location. On the other hand, I feel bad for Ms. Fei. Obviously, Slade only used her as a pawn because he needed her technical prowess. I loathe what she did to our family, but I am not about to stoop so low as to want her dead. If Slade had done something life-threatening to her before driving out here, then my former secretary is surely in deep trouble. How on earth will the police get there in time to save her? They might be too late.

Another question troubles me just now. "Did my poor daughters witness what Slade had done to Ms. Fei?" I truly hope not. If they had, how would they be able to recover from such a traumatizing, harrowing experience?

I sense that my wife is thinking about the exact same things because she wraps her arms around mine and presses herself closer to me once again.

Sara Lance-Merlyn:

My phone rings, and immediately I pick up. It's Dad. He tells me everything Slade Wilson just told him, which really isn't much, but I'm glad it includes the current location of my nieces. And I just hope and pray that Wilson isn't lying. For a moment I wonder how Oliver and Felicity are doing, and I just comfort myself with the thought that they're both very strong people, and that they're going to get through this unscathed with our help. My father tells me to relay the information to Agent Hotchner, and that's exactly what I do as soon as I hang up.

"Hotch," I alert our team leader, "Slade Wilson has given my father the location of the girls. They are in some abandoned inn called the Bates Motel. It's on the old highway north of Starling City. It's on the other side of town from where we are. And Wilson hints that Mae Fei is somehow critically injured, so we need to send help fast."

"Copy that," Hotch responds from the passenger seat up front. He immediately picks up his phone and calls Agent Morgan. He puts his phone on speaker mode for all of us to hear.

After a couple of rings, Agent Morgan picks up. "Hotch, what's up?"

"Morgan, Slade Wilson has disclosed the location of the Queen kids. They're in an abandoned motel off an old highway north of Starling City. Captain Lance has already dispatched several units, and I want you three to rendezvous with them because you're closer to them than we are. I'll have Garcia send you the coordinates to the motel right away. We'll stay here and help Lance and the SCPD recover the Queen couple," Hotch explains.

"Got it. I hope Wilson isn't lying and sending us on a wild goose chase. Will we find the Fei girl there too?" Morgan asks.

"That's what Wilson claims. He also hints that she is badly hurt, which is why Captain Lance has also dispatched paramedics to the location," Hotch replies. "Morgan, did you find anything else from Fei's apartment that might still help us?"

"Sorry, Hotch," Morgan answers, "We've turned the place inside-out, but it's been cleared from clues and evidence. It doesn't seem like Fei has been living here for a while. The fridge is empty aside from curdled milk and moldy cheese. No personal effects, no photographs, no files. It's like she'd moved out some time ago. Neighbors say they haven't seen anyone coming and going for close to a month. No, we didn't find anything here that could-"

"Morgan, wait! Is that Hotch?" Agent Prentiss hollers. It sounds like she is scuttling towards Morgan from a hallway. "Hotch!" Her voice is now clearer and louder on the other end of the line. Morgan must have passed the phone to her. "The landlord living on the ground floor confirms that Fei was indeed renting here, but he claims she must have had a roommate because he had seen one there a couple of times when he came to check on the plumbing that Fei had complained about twice in the last four months."

"Wilson?" Hotch asks.

"No, no. The roommate was female, Caucasian, about the same age as Fei but taller. Landlord says the young lady hardly ever talks and never smiles, but is – and I quote – 'definitely more gorgeous and hotter than the Asian girl,'" Prentiss replies.

Everyone in our SUV appears puzzled at this new information. Who could this mystery roommate be? She could be a key witness against Fei and Wilson when this is all over and the criminal case goes to court. Or… she could be another accomplice, another key player in this abduction case. That certainly is a possibility that still can't be ruled out. Finding her might help us wrap up this case.

Even as Prentiss gives Hotch the information, Agent Jareau, whom I fondly call JJ, is already on the line talking with Garcia. Seated beside me and behind Hotch, JJ is telling the team's technical analyst to send Morgan the coordinates to the Bates Motel, as well as to find out the identity and whereabouts of the roommate based on the landlord's description. Garcia hopes that street cameras in the vicinity of Fei's apartment building picked up something in the last month or so.

Hotch hangs up almost at the same time that JJ does. "Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid are on their way to the Bates Motel. They will rendezvous with the SCPD units your Dad dispatched," he tells me. "Have you spoken to Garcia?" he asks JJ this time. JJ nods in the affirmative and replies, "She's on it."

"Hotch," Agent Rossi speaks up while driving, "I hope it's clear with the SCPD that we need Slade Wilson alive? The captain himself is already emotionally invested in this because it involves his family."

"Yes, don't worry. I'll make sure Captain Lance and his men are aware of that when we get to the rendezvous point," Hotch assures Rossi. "Once we ascertain that he's not bluffing about his connections with the Cradle Snatcher, Wilson becomes a valuable asset to the FBI's on-going investigations."

"That is if we can get him to cooperate," Rossi points out.

I pretend not to overhear that hushed exchanged between my two mentors. Something inside my chest aches, and my stomach churns at the thought that the district attorney might offer Slade Wilson a plea bargain and promise him reduced penalties on the abduction charges if he agrees to divulge information about the Cradle Snatcher. I understand how these things go – even if sometimes I do not approve of it – and it saddens me that the Queens might not get the justice they deserve just because the FBI thinks that capturing and stopping a serial killer with the help of another "cooperative criminal" is the best or only alternative that they have.

If this happens, how am I supposed to face my dear friends? How can I still expect them to believe that the law is on their side? How do I explain all this to Oliver, Felicity, and their children without breaking their hearts? How can we guarantee their safety if Slade gets off easily because of a reduced prison term and the possibility of an early parole? "This is why it's really not a good idea to be working a case where family and friends are involved," I scold myself silently as I blow out a deep breath.

Another call comes in, interrupting my conflicting thoughts and mixed emotions. It's my dad again, telling me that the SCPD tech guys have confirmed that both the phones of Oliver and Felicity are dead, and that only the trackers on their ring and earring are active. The trackers are still transmitting signals; that's good to know. The tracker signals indicate that they are currently no longer in the original rendezvous point at the old mill. They are on the move. Where is Slade taking them?

Roy Harper:

"Are we still headed towards the old mill, sir?" I ask Captain Lance as our vehicle speeds off. He had just given our driver the instructions to drive straight down the dirt road towards the direction that Oliver and Felicity's car disappeared into a while ago. The two FBI SUVs are directly in front of us, and detectives Farrell and Castillo are following close behind us in the other police vehicle.

"Yes, Harper," replies the veteran cop, who is busy studying the information recently sent to his phone by our tech guys back at headquarters. "From there we go south… about three hundred meters further… on foot. Our tech support has just updated me through the comms about the tracker signals. The Queens' current location is that way. It seems like they're headed towards the perimeter fence of… oh… Iron Heights Prison."

"Iron Heights? I didn't know the prison could be accessed from this location," I ask.

"It can't. There are no gates on this side of the facility. GPS won't tell anyone to approach the prison from this location because there are no roads leading towards it from here, but the map clearly tells us that the perimeter fence of Iron Heights is only about five hundred meters south of the old mill just beyond a ravine and a small stream," Lance explains.

"Why would Slade take them there? The prison is heavily guarded. Guards at the fence could easily spot them approaching," I wonder out loud. It doesn't seem to make sense for Slade to bring Oliver and Felicity to the prison and risk getting caught.

"I don't think he intends to take them to the prison, Roy," Lance answers. "I think he just wants them to see it from afar… to make a point. I suspect it's somehow part of his revenge-"

"A revenge that he won't get to accomplish… not on our watch… because we're going to find Oliver and Felicity before he does anything to harm them," I interrupt our police captain. I think he senses my resolve to see this mission to completion without getting our loved ones killed, because he looks over his left shoulder from the passenger seat and simply nods at me in agreement. A proud smile forms on his lips.

Inside my head though, the wheels are turning. I wonder if Agent Hotchner and Captain Lance already have a plan. I wonder what we would do if and when we stumble upon Slade, Oliver, and Felicity. Right now the element of surprise is still in our favor because Slade apparently still doesn't know that we have trackers on his prisoners, and I really hope it stays that way. I've been on a number of hostage situations and rescue missions before, but none of them involved any of my loved ones or close friends. I take a deep breath, telling myself to be brave, to not mess things up, because one mistake could cost Oliver and Felicity their lives. As for Slade, I know that the right thing for a cop like me to do is to catch him and let the justice system run its course. But if it comes to choosing between his life and those of my dear friends, I know I won't hesitate for a second to pull the trigger if I have to. Still, I hope no one dies today – villain or not.

Liv:

It's been some time since Carrie and I last heard a man and a woman arguing just outside the door of some sort of basement storage area where we were being kept. The man kept growling and cursing, threatening to hurt the woman if she did not do what he wanted her to. If I'm right, he's the same man who took us and left us here, and I think the woman is Ms. Fei, coz it sure sounded like her.

"You said we were just going to ask for a huge sum of money and then… and then we can walk away," the woman argued. "I only agreed to help because I owe Jake a lot. You never said anything about killing people. I never signed up for this!" the woman screeched. Then I heard a slapping sound followed by a loud thud against the door.

The man growled at her again. "You will do as I say, or you're going to join those Queens in their graves!"

Queens? Graves? Are Carrie and I going to die? Please, no!

I had pulled Carrie closer to me and wrapped her in my arms. "Livvy, I want to go home. I want Mommy and Daddy," Carrie had cried as she buried her face in my chest. "What's going to happen to us? I'm so scared!" she had said to me in between sobs and shivers.

"I know, Carrie. I'm scared too, but Mom and Dad would want us to be brave. Okay?" I told my little sister. We huddled close as the fight between the man and the woman died down.

Soon the basement door opened. Ms. Fei came down the stairs holding a tray in her hands. Her face was pale, her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she had a purple bruise on her cheek. The wound on her head when the bad man pushed her in the stairwell had been covered up with a patch of gauze plastered to her forehead. Without a word, she crouched down and set a tray of food and two glasses of water down on the floor. "Eat," she said to us. She couldn't look us in the eye.

The one-eyed man stood by the doorway at the top of the stairs. "I have to go now. Wait for my call, Mae. I'll tell you when it's time for you to leave," he instructed sternly.

Leave? Where is she going? She can't leave us here! No… Was she supposed to take us somewhere else? How will our parents find us if she moves us again? And why had he called her Mae when her name is Shado Fei? I had too many unanswered questions, and I felt very upset that my smarts can't find the answers for them.

"Lock the door behind you," the bad man commanded her before leaving.

Ms. Fei glanced at us sadly a couple of times. Her eyes somehow tell us how sorry she is for the trouble she helped cause. She stood, and before she walked away to leave, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

That was more than an hour ago, maybe two. I'm not so sure. Carrie and I have already eaten all the food she had brought, and our glasses of water are both empty now.

"Livvy, I need to pee," Carrie tells me.

"Alright. I'll see if I can call Ms. Fei from the door. You stay here," I tell my little sister. "I think I need to pee too."

I climb up the stairs and just as I reach the very top where the door is, I hear footsteps. As the footsteps come nearer, I hear two people talking. I hold my breath and wait.

"Slade says the Queen couple are with him now, and he's already informed the cops about this location," a woman's muffled voice said. It didn't sound like Ms. Fei, though.

"So is it time for us to go?" I think this time it's Ms. Fei asking.

"Yes," the other woman replies with a controlled chuckle. "I'm going. You're not."

"What are you saying?"

"Sorry, darling. But you're no longer needed."

Bang!

The gunshot rings in my ears as if dynamite has exploded just outside the door. I shudder in terror, stumbling backwards and almost falling down the stairs. It's a good thing I'm holding on to the railing of the stairs.

One question fills my mind: "Who had shot whom?" I hate to think that Ms. Fei is the one now lying dead on the other side of the door. She seemed to care about us somehow.

I may never know. Because after the sound of the shooter's footsteps fades, there is just dead silence. The door doesn't open. I'm frightened to think it never will. Whoever killed the other person just left us here to rot. To die. I don't want to think about that, but how can I not?

Is anyone ever going to come for us?


	19. Rescue and Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title summarizes the chapter best. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from the point of view of three Queen girls.

Carrie:

I start to cry again. My pants are all wet, and there's a puddle of pee on the floor. I'm really embarrassed and upset! I'm supposed to be potty trained already, and I've been weaned early from diapers. Liv has forgotten about me needing to pee. Since the loud gunshot went off, she'd been standing at the top of the stairs, pounding at the door and yelling, "Help! Somebody, help us!" She's been at it for some time now. I'm afraid she's going to lose her voice soon.

"Livvy! Please, I need your help," I cry out to my sister.

Liv turns around and comes down the stairs. She sees the wet floor. Her eyes widen as she realizes she had forgotten all about me. She rushes to me and hugs me tight. "I'm so sorry, Carrie. I was so scared, I forgot! I'm sorry! But I don't think there's anything we can do about this right now."

Liv:

Carrie keeps crying as she clings to me. Her tears soak the front part of my shirt. I know she's crying not just because she had peed in her pants; she's also crying because she's still very much afraid. I'm afraid, too. I'd been trying so hard to be brave for her sake since we were taken, but after that frightening gunshot blasted our ears, I could no longer hide the fear inside me from my little sister. I think this is how it feels when people panic. I just wish Carrie can't see it in my eyes, or feel it in my shaking body. I know it makes her even more fearful that her older sister is afraid.

"What's… what's going to happen to… to us now… Liv?" Carrie asks me in between sobs.

"I don't know, Carrie," I answer her honestly. "But we just have to believe that our family won't give up trying to look for us."

I lead my little sister to the foot of the stairs and set her down to sit on the first step. I take a deep breath to calm myself, and then I sit down beside her. Just then, a thought enters my mind. I ask my sister, "Do you remember what Mom and Dad always tell us to do when we're afraid?"

"Uh-huh," Carrie nods. "They tell us to stop and pray," she answers.

"Right! So that's what we're going to do," I tell her. My voice is still a bit shaky, but I'm not as scared as I was a minute ago.

I lead Carrie in a short, simple prayer, asking God to send help and to not let anything worse happen to us. I ask God to lead our parents and the police to where we are. Little did we know that our prayers had already been answered even before we ask, because soon, we hear footsteps, a lot of footsteps coming closer and closer to the door above us. Then we hear hushed voices just outside the door.

"The door's locked," someone says softly. It's a man's voice.

A few seconds of silence follows, and then… Bam! The door swings open and two people come through. A dark-skinned man with a bald head and a black-haired woman, both wearing bullet-proof vests, slowly come down the stairs. Both are pointing their guns at us, making Carrie and me even more fearful. But as soon as their eyes meet ours, the man calls out, "Liv? Carrie? Olivia and Carrie Queen?"

"Yes?" Surprisingly, it's Carrie that's brave enough to answer first.

"Who are you?" I ask, as I pull my little sister closer to me.

The two strangers slowly lower their weapons and take one step at a time down the stairs toward us. The black guy replies, "Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you." He and the woman with him gently put their guns back in their holsters. "My name is Agent Morgan, and this is my partner, Agent Prentiss. We're FBI, and we've come to bring you home. You're safe now."

"We can go home now?" I ask again, just to be sure I heard him right. His words seem too good to be true.

"Your family's waiting for you back home. Everything's going to be alright," the female FBI agent says. She is the first one to reach the bottom of the stairs, and she takes me and my sister in her arms. "You're safe now," she adds. Carrie and I hug her back.

"Officers, over here!" Agent Morgan yells.

Apparently, there are more agents and cops outside. Two police officers come down to the basement, and then two more join them. A tall, lanky man also wearing a bullet-proof vest on top of his shirt and tie joins us and approaches Agent Morgan. The thin, geeky-looking guy (who hardly looks like an FBI agent, in my opinion) whispers something to Agent Morgan, and the two of them go back upstairs in a hurry.

"Thank you for coming for us," I tell Agent Prentiss, who is keeping us company in the basement as the police officers begin doing their work of securing the crime scene. "I'm Liv, and this here is Carrie."

"Hello, Liv," Agent Prentiss smiles at me. She then turns to my sister and says, "Hello, Carrie. My name is Emily. Pretty soon we can take you home, but right now you two just have to wait for a while, just until we get everything ready for you to leave. Okay?"

"Okay," Carrie replies. My sister tiptoes and tugs at the sleeves of Agent Prentiss's blouse. "My oldest sister's name is Emily, too," she tells her in her cute, soft voice.

"Yes, I know. I think I've met her earlier in your father's office," the pretty FBI agent responds. "She's anxious to see you both again… and your brothers too."

"Did you find my twin brother TJ?" I ask with concern. I remember how TJ looked like the last time I saw him. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and dripping from his chin like a waterfall, as Ms. Fei tied him up. I'll never forget the horrified look in his eyes as we drove off in the silver car, leaving him tied up near a dumpster in the basement parking of QC. My stomach twisted and turned at the thought of not being able to see my twin brother again.

"Yes, we did. TJ is okay. He's at home with Stephen and Emily, waiting for the two of you," Agent Prentiss answers with a smile.

I heave a sigh of relief. "What about our parents? Are they waiting for us at home, too?" I ask again.

It bothers me when Agent Prentiss doesn't answer as quickly and as confidently as she was answering questions a moment ago. "From what I know, your parents have joined the police in going after the person responsible for all this, but they will be meeting you back at the Queen mansion when this is all over." There is something in her eyes and the tone of her voice that worries me.

Agent Prentiss leads me and Carrie to a wooden bench near the wall directly across the stairs. She makes us sit down, and then asks us a few questions. "What can you tell us about the people who took you?" A female cop joins her and scribbles my answers on a small notepad as I speak.

"Ms. Fei… she was working with a scary, evil man. He was big and tall, but he had only one good eye. The other one was covered with a black patch. You know? Like the ones pirates wear? And he talked funny… and had a deep, raspy voice. At first, I thought Ms. Fei was friends with him, so I felt bad that she would do something like this to us. My parents trusted her! But when the one-eyed man shoved her against the wall at the stairwell, I realized he was just forcing her to go along with his evil plans. Ms. Fei was nice to us, even when we got here. I just feel bad for her that she got hurt. Is she okay? Where is she?"

Agent Prentiss presses her lips and pauses to think. When she finally speaks, she takes one of my hands and another of Carrie's and explains very briefly, "I don't think you'll be seeing Ms. Fei from now on." The sadness and regret in her voice are hinting that my worst fear had come true. Ms. Fei didn't make it. She must have been the victim of that awful gunshot that we heard.

Carrie and I start crying. Agent Prentiss crouches down to embrace us and let us cry on her shoulders. After about a minute of weeping, I suddenly gasp as I realize that Carrie and I might be able to offer the police some help. "Ms. Emily?" I call the agent's attention.

"Yes, Liv?" Agent Prentiss responds, pulling back from the hug.

"There was another woman," I say anxiously.

She asks, "What woman? There was no one else here when we got here, and we only found you two and Ms. Fei's…" Agent Prentiss stops abruptly, as if she is trying to keep something dreadful from me and my little sister.

"There was another woman! I'm sure of it," I continue with a more forceful voice. "Carrie and I heard two women talking just outside the door. Just before the loud gunshot went off! I know one of them was Ms. Fei because I recognized her voice. But I couldn't really tell who the other person was. Her voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't make out whose it was," I explain with excitement.

"Livvy's right! I heard them, too," Carrie remarks.

"What else can you remember?" Agent Prentiss asks, this time more interested in what we have to say.

"Well, when the two women started talking, the other one told Ms. Fei that the Queens – I think she meant our Mom and Dad – were already with a person named Slade, who was supposed to have told the cops where we are. When Ms. Fei asked her if it was time for them to go, the other woman laughed and told her that she was no longer needed. That's when we heard the gunshot," I explain further.

"And you didn't see this other woman?" Agent Prentiss asks again.

"No. I'm sorry. The door was closed," I reply with disappointment. "Before we were locked in, we didn't see anyone else except Ms. Fei and the one-eyed man."

"Anything else?"

I shake my head from side to side. "That's all I remember," I tell her. The kind agent thanks us for helping out, telling us how proud she is that we stayed brave. She assures us that she would be telling our parents about how brave and helpful we've been.

"Can we leave now?" I ask. "Carrie sort of wet her pants and she's not very comfortable in them anymore. She really needs to change."

"Just a little while longer, girls. We're just waiting for Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid to tell us when they're ready for us to leave." Agent Prentiss then instructs the lady police officer to see what can be done to get Carrie some fresh clothes to change into.

Soon the thin, nerdy-looking guy comes back. I assume he's the Dr. Reid that Agent Prentiss told us about. Dr. Reid smiles at us and says, "Hi, girls! My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm with the FBI, too. I met your parents and your brother TJ earlier. TJ was so brave, and Agent Prentiss here says that you two are just as brave. Your uncle would like to speak with you. He's on the phone." Dr. Reid hands me his phone.

"Hello?" I say. "This is Liv."

"Livvy! Oh, thank God, you're alright! This is Uncle Tommy. How is Carrie?"

"She fine. She's right here, Uncle Tommy. We're okay. The FBI and some cops came to rescue us."

"That's good. Your Aunt Thea and I feel much better now. You're on speaker phone, so Stephen, Emily, and TJ can hear your voice," Uncle Tommy says. His voice tells me that they're all excited to know that we're okay. I can hear my aunt and my siblings in the background, and my sister Emily yells, "I love you, Liv! Love you, Carrie!" I feel so much better hearing their voices. I can't wait to go home! Even Carrie is smiling now.

Uncle Tommy continues, "We'll be seeing you soon, okay? Just keep on being brave, and do exactly what the agents and the police tell you to do."

"Uncle Tommy? What about Mom and Dad?" I ask worriedly. Somehow I feel that our parents being with that Slade guy wasn't really a good thing. What is it about my parents that Agent Prentiss and Uncle Tommy find hard to tell us?

Uncle Tommy doesn't answer immediately, but when he does, he speaks very carefully. "Listen, Liv. Your parents are the strongest, bravest parents in the whole wide world. They volunteered to help the police and the FBI catch the persons who did this to you, and then they're going to meet you back here at the mansion. Your Uncle John and Uncle Roy, your Aunt Sara, and your Grandpa Quentin are helping out, and they won't let anything happen to Oliver and Felicity. They're going to bring your parents back, and they're all working together to make sure the kidnapper is caught. Everything's going to be okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I answer with difficulty. An imaginary lump in my throat is making it hard for me to speak, as I try to hold back tears. "Uncle Tommy? Thanks for telling us the truth."

Uncle Tommy tells me to give the phone back to the FBI agent, and then I turn to Carrie to let her know that everything is going to be okay.

After a few more minutes, Agent Morgan returns. "It's been taken care of. We're clear to leave," he tells Dr. Reid and Agent Prentiss, who nods her head in response. Agent Prentiss leads us up the stairs and out of the basement.

As we pass the dark hallway just outside the basement door, I see a pool of red on the floor and blood stains on the wall. I gasp in horror. I could only guess that this was where Ms. Fei had been shot. I then understood that the police had carefully gotten rid of the body before they led us out so that we won't be too frightened. The sight makes me tremble a bit once again, but Agent Morgan is quick to catch me before my legs give way. That's when he picks me up and carries me all the way to a black SUV. It's a good thing Carrie didn't see anything. Agent Prentiss was already carrying her, and her head was turned away from the horrible scene when we passed that hallway. This night is definitely something I will never forget for the rest of my life. I wipe a tear from my eye at that thought.

The ride home is quite peaceful but not completely quiet. Carrie had fallen asleep about five minutes after we left. She is lying on the back seat of the SUV, her head on Agent Prentiss's lap, her legs across mine. It's a different kind of ride since my sister and I are not strapped onto car seats. Agent Morgan is driving, and Dr. Reid is sitting on the passenger seat beside him. It's amazing how the three agents are wide awake. I mean, after all the investigating and rescuing that they've done all night and until the wee hours of the morning, they still have the energy to talk. Maybe they drank lots of coffee. That's what my Mom always does to keep herself alert when she needs to be; she often says she's thankful to whoever it was that discovered how to make her favorite caffeinated beverage, whatever that means. I, on the other hand, am trying to fight off the drowsiness and stay awake, because the conversation of the agents really sounds interesting. Plus, I really want to find out more about my parents. So, even if I close my eyes and try to relax, I force my ears to listen intently to what they are talking about. The agents seem to think that I've also fallen asleep like Carrie. I think I inherited my mother's eavesdropping genes.

"I just got off the phone with Hotch," Dr. Reid tells his fellow agents. "They're on their way back to Starling City as we speak. The police are still processing the crime scene."

"Slade Wilson?" Agent Morgan asks.

"In a body bag," Dr. Reid replies.

I'm not sure I understand what that is. Why is the bad guy in a bag? That must be the biggest bag one could buy from a store to fit a grown man in it. Why would the police put him in a bag instead of cuffing him and throwing him in jail? Dr. Reid speaks further, and his explanation helps me understand better what happened to the person who I now realize is the same one-eyed man that kidnapped us and ordered Ms. Fei around.

"Hotch, the team, and the cops followed the signals on Mr. and Mrs. Queen's trackers. From the abandoned mill they had to go on foot until they finally caught up with Slade and the Queens less than fifty meters away from the backside fence of Iron Heights prison. Slade refused to surrender even though he was surrounded. He fought back and opened fire, but he was soon put down. Hotch says he fell down a steep ravine after he was shot in the chest twice," Dr. Reid explains.

Agent Morgan asks another question. "Any casualties?"

"Agent Merlyn's arm was grazed by one of Slade's bullets, but Hotch says she's going to be fine," answers Dr. Reid. "One of Captain Lance's boys, an Officer Harper, also took a hit. He got shot in the leg and is being rushed to the hospital. According to the paramedics on the scene, it's nothing serious, just a flesh wound. Hotch says the cops are calling Harper a hero. It turns out he risked being in the line of fire to save the Queens. Hotch didn't go into details."

I try to keep myself from smiling. I don't want the agents to know that I'm awake and listening to their conversation. Even if my Uncle Roy got hurt, I am relieved that he's going to be okay, and I'm really so proud of him. I know he's a really good police officer, and someday he just might be a police captain just like my Grandpa Quentin. I'm also thankful that my Aunt Sara was there to help catch the bad guy and bring my parents back. I'm glad she, too, is going to be fine.

"And the Queen couple?" I hear Agent Prentiss ask a question this time, and I hold my breath in nervous expectation of Dr. Reid's answer. My heart is pounding inside my chest in nervousness.

"Hotch says they're alive, but one of them is bleeding badly and is also being rushed to Starling City General. He wasn't very clear which one. That was when he had to hang up on me because the police required his assistance," says Dr. Reid.

A dreadful feeling washes over me. The awful fear that I thought I had left behind in that old motel comes back. Who had been hurt, my mom or my dad? Is he or she going to make it? I know I'm too young to understand what "bleeding badly" is supposed to mean, but I have this terrible feeling that it's really not a good thing.

"Oh, dear God! Please let our parents be okay. Please!" My eyes are shut tight, and my lips are pressed hard, as I utter that pleading prayer in my mind.

Felicity:

I can feel nothing but pain. All over my body. The paramedics are busy checking my vitals to make sure I'm stable. One of them has already inserted the needle on my left hand for the IV line that's needed to make sure I'm properly hydrated. My other hand is held in a tight grip by Oliver. The paramedics let him inside the ambulance when he insisted on staying with me. I have an oxygen mask on my face to help me breathe, so I couldn't really talk to my husband, even if there are a million things racing in and out of my mind that I want to tell him. But it's okay; all I need to calm my nerves is to keep my eyes on him. His gentle, loving gaze and the smile he is fighting real hard to keep up for my sake – those are enough to comfort me at this time that my world seems to be falling apart.

"I love you," Oliver keeps saying to me. His voice seems steady enough, but I can tell he is keeping himself from falling apart. He isn't sobbing or anything, but tears are beginning to slowly roll down his cheeks, like they are rolling down mine. He stops mouthing I-love-you's and closes his eyes. I can see his lips moving, and I realize my husband is praying. With all the strength I've got left in me, I squeeze his hand to let him know that I'm with him in our desperate prayer for divine rescue.

"It's a good thing you were able to get the IV going a while ago," one of the medics tells his partner. "Her veins are collapsing because she's losing too much blood."

That remark obviously alarms Oliver, so he asks the medic, "Is she going to be okay? Can't you control the bleeding?"

"We're trying, sir. But we really need to get her to Starling Gen, and fast," replies the medic.

"Oliver…" I whisper with a sob, "The baby… Ask them what will happen to our baby." But Oliver can't really hear me. My voice is too weak, and it's muffled by the mask covering almost half of my face. His eyes are no longer fixed on mine; he's staring at the monitor in horror.

"Her BP's dropping!" says the other medic.

Before my eyes close completely, I see the two medics frantically moving about and my husband rubbing his scruffy jaw with one of his hands in panic. The last thing I remember before blacking out is Oliver crying, "Felicity… Honey… hang on. Please! Don't leave me. I love you!" His voice gradually fades… until all I hear is silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Why is Felicity bleeding out? Is she going to make it? 
> 
> I don't know how you feel about character deaths, but just so that you will be emotionally prepared, I'm going to drop a hint that there will be one as we wind up this drama. We can't always have completely happy endings, right? But don't worry too much. It won't be any major character of Arrow.
> 
> Comments and reviews are welcome and appreciated, as always. Thanks for reading and following!


	20. Gains and Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens, their family and friends deal with the aftermath of the kidnapping and rescue. He, Roy, and Sara recount how everything went down with their rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter, which will be followed by an epilogue. The previous chapter already revealed the rescue and recovery, not only of the Queen girls, but also of Oliver and Felicity. This chapter explains and clarifies how the rescue and recovery of the couple happened and why Felicity is in critical condition. Sadly, it also reveals who else dies (aside from Slade and Ms. Fei, who probably had it coming). I hope you don't hate me that much. For those of you who can't take character deaths in a story, let me just say that I think you will survive this chapter because no one in the Arrow cast dies (wink). So read on, and I hope you like how our story comes to a close... almost.

Oliver:

It's been about ten minutes since we arrived at Starling City General. Felicity was immediately rushed to the women's trauma unit. The paramedics had briefed the medical team that received her while they hurriedly pushed her gurney through the hallway into the room. The doctor had held me by the shoulders and looked me straight in the eye, telling me that they'd take care of her from then on, and that I should let them do their job.

A nurse had directed me to the waiting area where I am now waiting with Diggle and my father-in-law Quentin. Sara is in the E.R. getting treatment for her minor injury, while Roy is in the out-patient surgical unit getting stitched up for the bullet wound on his leg. The FBI team of Agent Hotchner had gone back to the police precinct to file the case report. Quentin had asked four guys in uniform to stay at the triage area of the E.R., ready if any of us needed help. Detectives Farrell and Castillo were left at the crime scene just outside Iron Heights, still processing the crime scene.

I take off my jacket and drape it over the backrest of one of the vacant chairs in the room nearest the table on which the big lamp providing light to the dimly lit room is. That's when I see the blood stains on the front parts of my brown jacket. I look down and notice that my jeans also have blood on them. I stare at the palms of my own hands that are stained crimson with fresh blood. My wife's blood.

I stand still, rooted on the spot in front of that empty chair. I'm not sure if it is shock, rage, or an overwhelming sense of fear that has gripped my entire being. I can't speak. I can't cry. I'm not even sure if I'm still breathing. It's like the oxygen supply in the room isn't enough for me to survive. I feel like I need to get out of here and get some air, but I'm paralyzed at the spot where I'm standing.

"There's more on your face, Oliver." Diggle's voice cuts through the silence that pervades the space that only the three of us occupied.

"Huh?" I respond in confusion, oblivious to whatever it was that Dig was trying to point out.

"Blood. There's more blood on your face. The wash room is just two doors down the hall, to the right. You should clean up," Diggle suggested calmly, pointing to the scarlet spots on my jaw, chin, and forehead.

"Oh… okay," I reply softly, almost in a whisper. I can't really talk much because my breathing is quite shallow. Also, I don't really know what else to say.

"Afterwards, maybe you should let them look at you at the E.R., too," Quentin suggests this time. "You have a nasty cut on your left temple and a couple of bruises on your face that may need some ice. And your hands… your knuckles are bleeding and beginning to swell."

I just nod in response, without even looking at either of them. I know they mean well, but at this point, I'm not exactly thinking of my well-being. I'm anxious that my wife's and unborn child's lives are hanging in the balance. They're the ones that are of critical importance right now. I didn't notice the cuts and bruises until my father-in-law pointed them out. I don't even feel any pain. My body is numb, but deep inside my heart aches. So much. The intense throbbing in my chest is unbearable.

My feet carry me to the wash room where I wash my hands and soak my face in cold, running water. Then I dry my face and my hands with paper towel that's just within reach. Pretty soon, though, my face is wet again… with tears rushing down my face uncontrollably. The dam had broken just seconds ago, and I can no longer hold back the emotions that have been threatening to inundate my feeble, fainting heart. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few seconds, and all I see there is the dismal countenance a broken man, an expression worse and more unnerving than the one I had when I lost my first wife in her battle with cancer. Because this time, I am faced with the utterly distressing prospect of losing both my beloved wife and our sixth child, whom I may never get the chance to know and cherish.

My head begins to spin, forcing me to take a few unsteady steps backwards until I hit the wall behind me. I lean against the cold tiles and find myself slowly sliding down to the equally cold, tiled floor. And all I can do in the silence and solitude of this place is weep and wail. I cry my heart out like a child in despair, not caring if someone entered the wash room at any moment.

"God, please!" I cry out in desperation. "Please don't take her from me, from our children. We need her in our lives. I need her. I can't lose her. Not yet! I know You gave her to me, and You have every right to take her back, but I'm begging you… Please, give us another chance at a lifetime together. I love her so much, and I don't think I can ever love again after Felicity." It's a prayer of despondency, but as I humbly plead and fiercely wrestle with the One my wife had helped me learn to have faith in, the despondency slowly turned into a glimmer of hope. Whatever happens, I believe. I believe the Queens will make it.

I wiped away my tears with the heels of my hand as my breathing gradually evened out. I closed my eyes and felt the glimmer of hope slowly glow inside me. I got up to my feet, washed my face and dried it yet again, better prepared to go back to the lounge area and… wait. Hope-fully.

Emily:

By the time Dad returns to the waiting area, Uncle Tommy, Stephen, and I are already here. Stephen and I run to him instantly, and he clings to us as though he never wants to let us go. "Hey kids, I'm so glad to see you." He kisses both of us several times, and just as he is about to ruffle Stephen's mousse-styled hair, my brother pulls back, jerking his head backwards to avoid it. I pull back as well and ask, "I'm so glad you're okay, Dad. How is Mom?"

Dad smiled slightly and cupped my cheek. "The doctors are still working on her, Ems. We'll know more soon. She's strong, sweetie. I believe she'll pull through," he says confidently. His voice is firm and full of faith, and that helps to quell the worries inside me.

"Oliver," Uncle Tommy speaks this time, "Thea stayed behind with TJ who's still asleep. She wanted to be home when the Feds arrive with Liv and Carrie. Your girls are alive and well." Uncle Tommy grins widely at my dad and then turns his gaze back at his lovely, blonde wife. Uncle Tommy has had Aunt Sara in his arms for a couple of minutes already, tenderly embracing his wife who had just come from medical treatment herself. While Dad was in the wash room, Aunt Sara had assured all of us that there was nothing to worry about because the bullet had only grazed her arm.

"Thank God," Dad whispers after heaving a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes and smiles.

"Oliver, have you thought about having yourself treated?" Grandpa Quentin asks our dad. Dad's eyes flick open.

My eyes trail from my dad's face down to his hands, and I gasp in horror at the red and purple spots on them. His left hand is slightly better off than his right hand, which had several abrasions and a couple of small but bleeding cuts, and the knuckles are swelling.

"He had to punch the bad guy, sweetheart," Aunt Sara says to me. She's smiling, even as she turns to face my dad. "You have a very brave Dad, Emily. He tried really hard to protect your Mom. She is alive now because of him. He fought hard and held off Slade until we caught up with them."

"Proud of you, Dad!" Stephen exclaims.

"Yeah, Dad. Thanks for keeping Mom safe," I add with a teary-eyed smile on my face.

"Tell us what happened, Dad," my older brother requests. Dad flinches, perhaps because he is hesitant to retell details of their harrowing experience. "It's okay, Dad. Emily and I can handle it. We want to know and understand. Just spare us the gruesome details." Dad looks at Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara, his eyes trying to ask if this is a good idea. And when our aunt and uncle both nod in encouragement, Dad leads my brother and me to sit down on the couch.

Stephen:

Dad turns to Grandpa and begins to tell his story. "After Slade told you where to find Liv and Carrie, he destroyed our phones and made us walk past the old mill and into the woods. At first we didn't know where he was taking us. There seemed to be nothing there but trees. But after walking for a while, for maybe a few hundred meters in the darkness, we reached the edge of a steep ravine. Down below there was a little shallow stream. Beyond it, on the other side, was a small grassy clearing. Up ahead, we realized where he had taken us. We saw the back of Iron Heights prison. Felicity and I looked at each other, and we knew."

"You knew what?" Stephen asks.

"That he wanted us to see where he had suffered for the crime he had done against your Mom and me that Christmas Eve before we were married," Dad answers.

"I remember," I speak up. Dad turns to look at me. I can see the pain in his eyes. I can tell he doesn't want me to relive the terror of the fateful night. Because of my family's love and support, I'd been able to move past the trauma and somehow move on without much fear weighing down on me. I smile at him and say, "Please go on, Dad. I'm okay. Really."

Dad takes a deep breath and turns back to face everyone. "Well," he goes on, "Slade made me and Felicity kneel down, facing the prison. His gun was still pointed at us, so we had no choice but do what he ordered us to do. He then delivered his vendetta speech, saying that the criminal case filed against him on our behalf, for which he was convicted and sentenced to prison, had destroyed his life. He blamed us for the untimely death of his friend Jake, the pusher and addict who assaulted your mother that night. He blamed us for the loss of his eye. He blamed us for how those perverts in the prison…" Dad pauses for a while, unsure of how to phrase the next part of his story. He cleared his throat and then went on to say, "Slade blamed us for the inhumane things the other inmates did to him in his few years at Iron Heights, especially when Jake was no longer there to help him fight them off. He even blamed us that he no longer had a life even after he got out on parole."

We are all quiet. We actually don't know what to say. The poor guy did suffer in prison, but that did not justify him taking revenge on our family. By the looks on the faces of everyone in the room, they must all think and feel the same way I do.

Dad leans forward and plants his elbows on his knees, as he goes on with the story. "Felicity tried to reason with him. She told him that we felt bad for the unjust things he suffered in prison, but that all those things that happened to him were the result of the foolish choices he had made earlier in life. She told him that there was still a chance for him to live a decent life if he'd just give up on his revenge and surrender to the police. She even told him that we could help him find a stable job after he is released from prison for kidnapping. That was when Slade lost it. He started yelling and cursing, saying that he'd rather die than go back to prison. But he said… he said he was going to make sure first that we'd join him in hell. That's when… that's when he… He turned to Felicity and pointed the gun to her head. I begged him to take my life and spare hers, but he only sneered and said that vengeance would only be complete if both Queens responsible for messing up his life are dead. I looked into his evil eye and saw that he was hell-bent on killing us. Slade had reached the point of no return, and just as he was about to pull the trigger, I lunged at him and tackled him to the ground."

"You did what?!" I squealed in fright. "Dad, it's a miracle he didn't shoot you."

Dad replies, "He couldn't have. He dropped the gun when the two of us fell down to the ground. He tried to reach for it, and I tried with all my might not to let him. We wrestled for it until Felicity came from behind him and hit his back with a tree branch. That's when I was able to stand up in time to throw some punches on his face and stomach."

"Way to go, Dad," Stephen remarks. His face is beaming with pride.

"Anyway, Slade was tough. He took the punches like a steel soldier. When he was able to block one of my punches, he kicked me in the gut and I fell. Then he went after your mother. He grabbed Felicity by the hair and yanked her towards himself. He then pushed her down to the ground, and started to choke her with his bare hands. Even with the agonizing pain in my stomach, I sprung forward and pulled the man away from her. That's when we got into a fist fight. I tried to fend him off, but he must have gotten used to fist fights in prison because the harder the punches I threw, the tougher he seemed to become. One of the punches he aimed at me connected to the side of my head. The blow was too hard that I fell down on my knees and all I could feel was the ringing in my ears and the pulsating pain in my head. Slade made for the gun and would have shot me defenseless right then and there, but he hesitated. He said that revenge would be sweeter if he made me see my wife die before my eyes first. So, he turned around and aimed at Felicity."

"And then what happened?" I ask.

"I'll tell you what happened," Uncle Roy suddenly appears at the door. He is sitting on a wheelchair that's being pushed by a male nurse. He tells the nurse that he can take it from here, so the nurse leaves and Uncle Roy maneuvers his wheelchair towards us.

"Hey, it's good to see you," Dad stands and offers his brother-in-law a firm handshake. "Thanks for being there just in time, Roy. Felicity is alive because of you."

"Yeah, you did well, Harper," Grandpa Quentin compliments Uncle Roy and taps his shoulder.

"Thanks, everybody," Uncle Roy acknowledges our grateful remarks. "But I think I should follow through with telling the rest of the story." We all go back to our seats and listen to what he can tell us next.

"We'd been following the tracker signals, going deep into the woods on foot. It was Sara who spotted Slade and Oliver in a fist fight about twenty meters away near the ravine. Agent Hotchner had directed all of us to divide into teams to surround them. He sent cops with Agents Rossi and Jareau down a steep pass to cut off Slade if he attempted to escape down the ravine and across the stream. He sent Sara with Captain Lance, Detectives Farrell and Castillo, and me to flank him on the left side, while he and Dr. Reid flanked him on the right side with Dig and the rest of the SCPD officers. We quickly went to our positions, and as soon as we were ready and each team had a clear and unobstructed view of the target, Agent Hotchner called out, 'Slade Wilson! This is the FBI. Stand down. We and the SCPD have you completely surrounded. Drop the gun and get down on the ground on your knees with your hands behind your head.' Slade didn't even take a moment to think. He darted across the short distance between him and Felicity and grabbed her. He pointed the gun at her neck and threatened to shoot her if we came closer. He kept circling in the same spot, dragging her around. He knew he was surrounded and out of options, but it was clear he wasn't going to surrender. The expression on his face and his body language told us that he was ready to die; he wasn't going to give himself up, and he was going to take Felicity down with him. Sara and I looked at each other. We knew we had to act, and fast."

Uncle Roy glances at Aunt Sara and she acknowledges that he wants her to tell the rest of the story. She grits her teeth and then begins to speak.

"Slade must have followed the direction from which Agent Hotchner's voice came from. And when he spotted the location, he started shooting at the Feds and the cops Agent Hotchners. The cops fired back, but because of the distance and maybe even the darkness, the first few shots missed him. He let go of Felicity and scampered to take cover behind a huge rock nearby. She fell down on the ground and I heard Oliver yell out to her to stay down. The gunfire continued, but soon Slade was out. A few moments of silence followed. From our position, we saw Slade reloading his gun. I signaled Roy and my dad that we could use the brief ceasefire to move in on the target, and we did," Aunt Sara explains.

Uncle Roy picks up the story at this point. "We were just a few meters away from Slade, closing in on him from behind. He didn't see us coming as he was getting ready to fire at Agent Hotchner's team again. Felicity must have thought that the shooting was over, so she started to get up and move towards Oliver who was also down on the ground a few feet away from her. The second Slade spotted Felicity from his hiding place, he aimed his gun at her. I had no choice. I charged at him like a bull, shouting 'No!' to distract him. That startled him. He turned around, and seeing me coming at him fast with a gun pointed at him, he fired in panic, hitting me in the leg."

"Slade shot Roy, but he was too late. Roy was too close and fell on top of him," Aunt Sara continues. "Roy wrestled him on the ground and tried to loosen Slade's grip on the gun. Dad and I ran to help Roy, but when Slade saw us coming, he fired another shot. Because Roy's hand had a firm grasp on his wrist, Slade missed Dad, but he fired again and that was the bullet that grazed my arm. Slade kicked Roy's injured leg and struggled to get up to get away. And when he stood up and aimed the gun at my dad once again, I knew I had to take the shot. Two bullets in the chest. Slade staggered backwards and tripped on a rock. He fell down the ravine and died on the spot. The agents and cops at the bottom of the ravine tried to revive him, but he was already gone."

"What happened to Mom and Dad?" Emily asks, curious as to how our mother got injured.

"Emily, your mom didn't make it anywhere near me," Dad speaks up to answer her question. "When I looked up after the gunfire that took down Slade, I saw her fall back down on the grass. I rushed to her side only to find her curled up on the ground and squirming in pain. When I removed her hands from clutching her stomach, the crotch of her pants was soaked in blood. That's when I cried out to the cops for help."

"But she didn't get shot?" Emily asks again, wondering why Mom was bleeding if she hadn't taken a bullet.

"No, it was…" Dad's voice trails off. What he is about to say appeared to bother him a lot.

"What is it, Dad?" I ask. My voice is calm, to let my dad know that he can keep going.

"It's the baby. Remember, I told you earlier about her fragile condition? Maybe it was because she had fallen down on the ground hard a couple of times. Maybe it was the stress and trauma of it all. I don't know for sure. When I informed the medics in the ambulance that Felicity is about two months pregnant, they gave each other knowing looks. And then they advised me to be strong and prepare for the worst. It doesn't look good, kids. Mom might lose the baby, and because of the heavy bleeding, she's not in pretty good shape too." Dad finishes the story with a poignant look on his face. His eyes are glassy and he is holding back tears while his thumbs rub against his forefingers.

The news is definitely heartbreaking, even for me and my sister, but I think I still had it in me to comfort our father. So, I give him a pat on the back and say to him, "Don't worry, Dad. She'll make it. I know she will. We Queens are tough." Dad manages a faint smile as he returns the pat on my back.

Emily:

Just as I stand up to give my dad a hug, a doctor with a mask hanging from one ear enters the waiting room asking for Mr. Queen. Dad stands up, and the doctor asks if she could speak with him in private. Dad nods his head in agreement and they both step outside to the hallway. After about three minutes of anxious waiting, Dad returns.

"And?" Grandpa Quentin asks, curtly – perhaps based on the standard of strangers, but for us who know him very well, we don't mind his abrupt question that expressed how much he cares.

Dad has his hand on his forehead. He looks at his father-in-law to acknowledge that he heard him, and then his head hangs low and he says in a slightly wobbly voice, "Baby's gone." He sniffles, as a tear drops from the corner of his eye. And then he looks up, the corners of his lips turning up a bit as he adds, "But Felicity's going to be alright."

Everyone is relieved at the news. Stephen and I hug each other, so do Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara. Then I ask, "Can we go see Mom?"

"Not just yet, sweetheart," Dad replies. "She's still resting in the recovery room, but the doctor has given me permission to see her. When she gets transferred to a private room, then we can all see her during visiting hours. For now, I'd like for you to go home with your Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara. Liv and Carrie should be home by now, too. You guys should be there for them. Help your aunts get them washed up and ready for bed. Right now, everyone needs to get some rest. You can all come back to visit Mom after lunch tomorrow."

"And what about you?" Uncle Tommy asks my dad.

"I'll stay here with Felicity," replies Dad. "You go take good care of our kids. And Tommy," Dad adds, "thanks for everything, man."

"No problem. You and Felicity would have done the same thing for me and Sara," says Uncle Tommy.

As Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sara get us ready to leave, Grandpa walks up to my dad. "Oliver, I'll go back to the mansion and get some of your stuff ready with Thea's help, and then I'll come back with Chinese take-out. I know a place not far from here that's open 24 hours."

"Thanks, Dad," my dad responds, "Thank you for being an awesome cop, for backing us up with all the risks involved, for believing in me." He gives Grandpa a bear hug, much to the older man's surprise.

As Dad pulls back, Grandpa clings to him. He doesn't let my dad go. Instead, he says to his ear, "The way you've changed these past few years is nothing short of a miracle, Queen. I must say, I'm truly proud of the man you have become." After that, he let go.

"Well, coming from you, I am deeply honored." Grandpa simply smiles at Dad's response.

Oliver:

As soon as everybody leaves, I make my way to the recovery room where Felicity lies on the hospital bed, sleeping. Even though her face ashen white due to loss of blood, nothing could be more beautiful than her. Her blonde hair is sprawled all over the pillow. There are two tiny tubes inserted into her nostrils for the oxygen that's helping her breathe. Aside from the IV that's keeping her hydrated, there are two other lines connected to her arm – one is for her medications, while the other is for the blood transfusion that she so badly needed.

The doctor had explained to me earlier that Felicity suffered severe bleeding that significantly lowered her blood pressure to dangerous levels, and that the pregnancy had been aborted. Preliminary ultrasounds revealed that blood clots that were too many to mention filled her uterus, and the O.B. sonologists could no longer find the baby, let alone detect a heartbeat. When they had controlled the bleeding, they had immediately performed an emergency procedure that scraped out the remaining clots and cleaned up her uterus. The doctor warned that the procedure they performed on her was very delicate, and she instructed me that my wife should be cared for as if she had just given birth.

The news of the baby's loss crushed my heart. We will never know if our baby was a girl or a boy. We will never see whose features he or she takes after. We'll never know if he or she is just as talkative and smart as Felicity or Emily or Liv, or just as athletic and caring as Stephen, or just as mild-mannered and talented as TJ, or just as beautiful and sweet as Carrie. But just knowing that my wife made it, and is now recovering, is enough to comfort me during this time of grief.

I take my wife's cold, pale hands in mine and bend over to kiss her soft lips. My face hovers above hers, and I brush my nose against hers, whispering, "I love you, Felicity Smoak Queen. God has given you back to me, and I'm the happiest man on the face of the earth."

I enjoy a half hour of silence just sitting at Felicity's bedside, ruminating on the gains and losses of the past two days. We lost the baby, Ms. Fei became a casualty, two of my loved ones got injured in the rescue mission, and there is still a legal battle looming ahead of us brought on by my wife's former secretary. However, my dear wife is alive, my son TJ is safe, and our daughters Liv and Carrie are back in one piece (two actually). In my book, the gains far outweigh the losses.

It doesn't take long before a nurse calls my attention from the doorway. "There are some FBI agents in the lounge waiting to speak with you, Mr. Queen," she says kindly.

"Mr. Queen, we didn't want to leave without saying goodbye and wishing your family well," Agent Hotchner greets me as soon as I enter the lounge area. He extends his hand for a handshake. I take it firmly and pull him close for a manly hug of gratitude. I express to him and his team my profound thankfulness for everything they've done, telling them that I will certainly be writing a letter of commendation to their superior for a job well done in recovering our children and for ensuring my wife's and my safety.

"We're in a bit of a rush, sir. There's been another abduction in Washington State, and the Seattle police require our assistance. Evidence more clearly points to the Cradle Snatcher this time," Agent Hotchner explains.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," I respond regretfully.

Agent Hotchner continues, "We wanted to fill you in on the case of your daughters' abduction before we leave. The two suspects Mae Fei and Slade Wilson are deceased and, therefore, can no longer be charged with the crime. But the third un-sub is still at-large. We have already endorsed the case to the SCPD. From here on, Detectives Farrell and Castillo will be handling the investigations into the mysterious woman who, apparently, was working with Fei and Wilson and was directly responsible for the murder of Fei."

"Another woman?" I ask, confused at this new information.

"Yes, during the time you and your wife were with Slade, Agents Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid tried to investigate and gather evidence at Mae Fei's last known address and discovered that Fei had a female roommate. Your daughters also testified that they heard another woman talking with Fei before the gunshot that killed her went off in the location where we found them. We are positive that this is one and the same woman," Agent Rossi explains further.

"I see," I reply. "I'm sure the SCPD is more than capable of seeing this case through and bringing the remaining perpetrator to justice."

Once again, I reiterate how grateful I and my family are for the help that the team from the BAU provided. We say our goodbyes and in less than a minute, I am left in the lounge alone, wondering about this mysterious woman. Who is she, and where could she be? Why had she done this to us? Would the police ever be able to apprehend her, or would she dare try to hurt my family again and this time, succeed at it?

Gains and losses… I wonder if there would be more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and following this far into the story! I don't know who among those who have left kudos or have bookmarked this story are still following it, so I would really appreciate you taking the time to leave even a short, encouraging comment about what you think of the story, especially since it coming to a close.
> 
> In case you're wondering if there will be another Olicity family fic to continue this series, I'm not too keen on writing another multi-chapter fic it at this point. This might be the end. However, I'm considering starting a collection of drabbles or one-shots of the Queen family from this AU - short ones lifted from the timeline from "My Mom and My Dad" to "The Queens," or beyond it, maybe short stories of when Olicity are older and the five kids are older too. What do you think?


	21. Epilogue: Sunshine and Rainbows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity recuperates at home, physically and emotionally. The female mastermind's identity is revealed. The Queens live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the story of the Queens comes to an end. Enjoy this final chapter, which is perhaps the longest epilogue you'll ever read. When I was writing it, I felt like I didn't want the story to end. I'll be missing this Olicity family in my own little AU that I've created, as I hope you will too, coz I've really had a wonderful journey.

Felicity:

It's been almost a week since I got discharged from the hospital. A week since our family was finally reunited. A week since we all said goodbye to the youngest Queen, who we would never be able to meet on this side of heaven. I still cry. I still sob. But in between bouts of sadness and grief, I've also been able to smile. I am thankful to be alive. I am grateful for having a wonderful, devoted husband who is willing to sacrifice everything – including himself – for me and for our children. I am thankful to have five beautiful, brilliant children, and grateful to God that they are alive and well. We have each other, and we made it through what is perhaps the most grueling test of courage and faith in our lives as a family so far. Yes, words cannot describe the pain of losing an unborn child, especially under such horrifying circumstances. But what more could I ask for? My family and I are tremendously blessed.

Oliver has been taking our loss hard, too, and almost losing me in the hands of Slade Wilson and then in the ambulance when I was bleeding profusely has been weighing heavily on him. He tries not to show it, maybe because he doesn't want me to have to worry about him now that I'm still recovering physically and emotionally after everything we've gone through. But I know him so well, I could tell. After he turns off the lights at night, hugs and kisses me good night, and finally lays flat on his back when he thinks I've already dozed off, he would weep. I'd feel the bed shaking slightly as he cries himself to sleep. I hear him sob, even though he does it as softly as he could to avoid waking me.

Last night was the longest Oliver had cried, and I couldn't let him weep alone anymore. So I had turned to face him and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head between his chin and his chest. We wept together. My hair was soaked with his tears while his chest was soaked with mine. After a while I heard him whisper almost inaudibly, "Mara…"

"Honey?" I asked softly. "Did you say something?"

"Mara…," he answered. I wasn't sure what that word meant, so I asked, "Mara? What's mara?"

Oliver replied, his voice still trembling a bit, "Bitter. It means bitter."

"What do you mean?" I asked again. This time, I lifted myself upwards a little, resting my upper body on one elbow, facing my husband.

He turned to face me, also lifting himself and supporting his upper body weight on an elbow like I did. "I'd like for us to remember our baby, Felicity. I know we can't know for sure if she would have been a girl or a boy, but I'd like for us to call her Mara," he said, tenderly cupping my face with his free hand and gently wiping the tears on my cheek with his thumb.

It took me a moment to ponder on his unexpected proposition. I certainly miss our unborn child even if she'd been inside me for just barely two months, and I'm sure there would be days up ahead when I will no doubt miss her again and again, but I hadn't thought about naming him or her. My husband's idea was out-of-the-ordinary, but I found it very comforting. And considering everything we had gone through recently, having stared at death in the face and surviving its threat, the name he had thought of is quite fitting to remember – not only the child we had lost, but the ordeal that God had miraculously delivered us from.

"Okay," I said, placing my hand on top of his hand that was lovingly cradling my face. "Mara Queen," I said, smiling at Oliver. "It's a beautiful name. Kind of sounds like your mother's name, doesn't it?" Oliver simply smiled at me and blinked. "We'll never forget our baby, Oliver," I added. "And despite what her name means, we will always remember her as a blessing in disguise, especially after surviving something so terrible that almost tore our family apart."

After a moment of silence, my husband said to me, "I love you."

"And I love you," I said, turning my face slightly to kiss the palm of his hand.

Oliver slid his hand from my face to the back of my head and affectionately pulled me in for a kiss. In the beginning it was light and sweet, but as I lifted my free hand and stroked his short sandy blonde hair, he deepened the kiss and drew closer, pressing his body against mine. I felt an intense yearning in my husband's body language, and I knew he could feel the same in mine. We needed each other more than ever at that moment. It was a longing that was different from what we've had most nights. It wasn't the kind of longing that was borne out of passion; it was the kind borne out of a deep need for comfort that only the warmth of a loving spouse can provide at such a time as this. We kissed some more, and we cried some more. The salty flavor of tears that strayed near our lips while we savored such intimacy was a poignant reminder of the pain we've had to endure alongside the many pleasures we enjoy in this beautiful gift to mankind called marriage.

Before we got carried away, Oliver – like the caring, sensitive husband that he has always been – gently pulled back. He gazed lovingly into my eyes and stroked my hair. "Honey, I think we should wait until you get better. Doctor's orders, remember?" he proposed. He grinned as though he was teasing me somehow, and I could see his pearly whites even in the dark.

I nodded in agreement, mildly chuckling. I lay down on his chest once more, recalling that the doctor had specifically instructed me to take it easy with everything for a couple of weeks. The doctor had explained that the procedure performed on me as a result of the natural abortion had given my body just about the same stress as natural child birth would, and that I had better not tire myself out if I didn't want any complications. I have been very obedient since my discharge from the hospital. (Oliver and the kids have been diligently making sure of that.) I've been fully aware that my condition is still quite fragile; in fact, I still have maternity pads on, just in case I'd be spotting, just like how bleeding tapers off towards the end of every woman's monthly period. It has always been a challenge for us to resist the pull of intimacy when either of us asks for it, but I knew as well as he did that we both shouldn't give in at that moment… for my own good… no matter how much we needed the comfort that coming together as husband and wife would bring.

So, we just cuddled and huddled in the soft glow of the moonlight that seeped through the translucent white curtains of our bedroom, until we both fell asleep in each other's arms.

Early this morning I had been awakened by Oliver's alarm, but before he got up, he had embraced me and told me to sleep in today and get some more rest. He, on the other hand, had to get ready early. He and Tommy are supposed to be at the Department of Labor for an arbitration hearing because Helena Bertinelli, my former secretary, had decided to push through with her labor complaint against Queen Consolidated. The outcome of today's private meeting would determine whether or not a formal labor case would be filed against us by that scheming woman whose palpable intent has only been to extort a huge amount of money from the company and to tarnish our family's reputation in the public eye. The hearing should have started already by now. Before my husband left, he had promised to call me as soon as the hearing is over to let me know what happens next.

As I sit on our bed, propped up with fluffy pillows and leaning against the headboard, I sip my mildly hot latte contentedly. I smile with fondness as I look at our family pictures hanging on the wall like a collage of framed memories. There is a picture of Stephen in his bright yellow-orange and purple basketball jersey, holding a basketball. Oliver is right beside him, an arm tightly draped around his shoulders. My husband is beaming – like a proud father showing off his son's accomplishment – and holding up the gold medal that was awarded to our son as the MVP of last year's inter-school league on the day their team had won the championship game.

Right beside that picture is the one of Emily and me singing a duet in church when she was seven. I can't help the chortle that escapes my mouth as I remember the digital glitch that occurred in the middle of our song. For some technical reason, the accompaniment track of our song got stuck when it was Emily's turn to sing the second verse. And how did my daughter react to the situation? With her head up high and a sparkle in her eyes, she pushed on and sang her solo a capella like a pro, with not a tinge of worry or hesitation apparent in her voice and body language. I had soon joined in at the chorus, singing the second voice, and our voices blended together perfectly until our final note. I can still remember racing down the side aisle towards the sound booth as soon as the enthusiastic and appreciative applause of the congregation died down (the loudest of which came from my own family). I just couldn't resist the lure of an unresolved technical difficulty. Needless to say, the problem was solved and the church got its technical systems in the sound booth and in the administration office upgraded after I had volunteered to work on them for a week, much to Reverend Olsen's satisfaction.

Then there's the picture of the twins below Stephen's. That picture was taken on their first birthday, which was "The" birthday bash of all birthday bashes. Oliver is holding TJ who was dressed in a Green Arrow costume, and I'm holding Liv who was all dolled up as the Black Canary. We posed for the shot just behind their gigantic DC superheroes-themed birthday cake. It was a lovely day. All of our loved ones and friends were there. Even my parents flew in from Las Vegas. But the best thing I remember about that day is the fact that it was the day that TJ first said "Mama" as I was putting him to sleep. Liv had been babbling a lot, months before they turned one, and was starting to build quite an extensive vocabulary. TJ, on the other hand, had learned to speak only a few words, and "Dada" had been one of them, much to Oliver's delight. I had started to worry that maybe there was something wrong with him, or that his development was delayed somehow. But ever since he called me Mama that night, his speech developed in leaps and bounds; he began to speak two or three new words each week. It turns out our son is simply naturally quiet and more introverted than the rest of his siblings.

Next to the picture of the twins is the most recent addition to the mosaic of memories on our favorite wall. It's a head-shot of Carrie, our pretty princess, taken fairly recently when she turned two. She is dressed in her golden dress, just like Belle in the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast, which is one of her favorites. Gazing at this particular picture of our youngest daughter is one of Oliver's favorite pastimes; her candid yet charming smile was captured perfectly by the photographer, and it never fails to melt her father's heart. Oliver and I often wonder how Carrie would turn out. Would she have the same smarts that I, Emily, and Liv have in common, or would she lean more towards the arts like TJ? Perhaps she'd be the sporty and athletic type like Stephen, or grow up to be as thoughtful and caring and responsible as Oliver. I know that much of who she really is inside and who she can be remains to be seen, yet I hope that she stays as sweet and adorable as she is right now.

At the center of the four framed photographs is a larger picture set in a silver-gold frame – our wedding portrait. Looking at it right now, I can only sigh in awesome wonder. What did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful man in my life? God must have seen how lonely I had been before I'd met Oliver and decided to wrap this terrific guy in a black and white CEO's suit as a pleasant surprise package to a simple IT girl struggling to raise a toddler on her own. My life had never been the same ever since. What did I ever do to deserve five fabulous, fantastic children? Carrie may or may not be our last, I don't know. But I am already happy and content with the life I have been graciously given. I realize that surviving that near-death experience is like being given a second chance at life, another chance to love and be loved, and I'm not going to waste it moping around in grief. I have to move on and enjoy life to its fullest.

My eyes move from their focus on the pictures to our bedroom desk, and I see my tablet. "Maybe I can make myself useful just for a little bit," I think to myself. "It's not like I'm going to exert a lot of effort and disobey doctor's orders." I carefully get out of bed and sit comfortably on the chair behind the desk, turning on my favorite gadget in the world.

I consider logging on to Queen Consolidated's systems and see how everything's been going in the past days that I've been on sick leave, but I decide to check my emails first. After reading and replying briefly to a few emails from family and friends who've been asking how I've been doing, I log on to my company email account to check on official, work-related emails. I'm surprised that there aren't very many new emails in my inbox, just a few inquiries from business partners and a couple of concerns forwarded by the Applied Sciences Division; I usually get flooded with emails from various departments if I don't get to check them in just a span of two days. "Maybe Oliver instructed department heads and board members to hold all reports, minutes of meetings, and routine correspondences until I get back," I say to myself.

After scrolling down the emails in the past few days and clearing my account from Spam mail, I click on the Inbox again to check for any new emails. There's one. My eyes instantly widen and my jaw drops upon reading who it's from – Shado Fei. My heartbeat begins to race and I swallow an imaginary lump that's lodged in my throat. I blink a few times to make sure I'm reading the sender's name right. I click to open the email and immediately notice that the message with subject "For Mr. and Mrs. Queen" had also been sent to Oliver's company email address using Shado Fei's company account. There is nothing on the email except an attachment; it's a video file named "Mae Fei's Confession." I click on it and view the file. Just five minutes into the video, I'm already calling John Diggle to alert Oliver that something absolutely urgent has come up and that he needed to stall the meeting until Captain Lance arrives. As soon as John hangs up, I call Quentin and ask him to come to the mansion A.S.A.P. Time is of the essence, because I have just stumbled upon legitimate, hard evidence that would close the case of our daughters' abduction, the attempted murder of Oliver and me, and the murder of Mae Fei by none other than… Helena Bertinelli.

Oliver:

The arbitration meeting is winding down, but neither Tommy and I nor Bertinelli and her lawyer are backing down. We've been at it for over an hour now, but it seems like neither party is interested in an amicable settlement. I certainly don't intend to give in to the malicious demands of a liar, and it's not just because I refuse to let go of the outrageous amount of money she's asking for. After all, it's just money. What I don't want to part with is my integrity and the respect of my family and the thousands of men and women working in my company who rely on my leadership and trustworthiness. Giving Helena Bertinelli any amount of money in exchange for her silence is like admitting that I was guilty of sexual harassment and that QC is culpable of unfair labor practices. And in my book, both are definitely out of the question. But the woman is hell-bent on taking advantage of me and the company, and on destroying the reputable name my parents had built for decades, the legacy they've left for me to pass on to my children and grandchildren. I really don't understand why she would do such a thing. Why does she hate me and my family so much? What had we done to her that would merit such fierce retaliation?

The arbiter assigned to our case by the Department of Labor's legal division is growing more and more irritable and impatient by the minute. The gray-haired, pot-bellied man holds up his hands in surrender, suggesting quite frankly that we should wrap up the meeting and just see in other in court. Just as I am about to give my whole-hearted consent, Diggle discreetly enters the room and hands me a note, whispering into my ear that it's from my wife and that I should read it immediately. Diggle walks away, but instead of leaving the room, he stands near the door like a soldier at attention, guarding the only exit anyone of us can use. My focus shifts from him to Tommy, who is still arguing with the arbiter and Bertinelli's lawyer, and then I notice the dark-haired woman glaring at me curiously. I look down at the folded note and open it.

"Stall. Lance is coming to arrest her," the note says in bold script.

It takes me a couple of seconds to process what the note means. I tried to put together the puzzle pieces inside my head in that short span of time, but I come up short. And yet because I have full confidence in Felicity, I quickly resolve to do exactly what she's asked me to do. I grit my teeth, and with clenched fists I take a deep breath, look up, and say, "Tommy, how long will it take to draw up the papers to clear Ms. Bertinelli from dishonorable termination for gross misconduct and to compensate her for moral damages?" That, in my mind, is the best I can do at the moment to force this meeting to stretch into another twenty minutes or so.

Tommy, however, obviously and vehemently disagrees with me. His eyes are ready to pop out in disbelief as he raises his voice to say, "What are you talking about, Oliver? Are you out of your mind?"

"Now we're talking, Mr. Queen," Mr. Capella, Helena's lawyer, remarks with a twinkle in his eye. He sits back down on his chair, motioning the legal arbiter to do the same.

His client, on the other hand, remains standing. Helena crosses her arms in front of her chest and frowns suspiciously at me. She slowly circles around the square table and returns to her seat. "Why the sudden change of heart, Mr. Queen?" she asks suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at me.

I look at Helena straight in the eye and reply, "This meeting's been dragging on forever, and it's wearing me down. You're a painfully stubborn woman, the kind that won't ever stop until she gets what she wants." I move around Tommy to return to my chair, and as I pass him, I give him a look that he – as my best friend since kindergarten – recognizes as our "trust-me-on-this" look. As I sit down and rest my folded hands on crossed legs, Tommy turns back around to face the rest of the people in the room. I hear him ask Helena, "If the money can be transferred to your account as soon as it's ready, will you sign a memorandum of agreement that you will forfeit your right to appeal this case any further or to take this matter to court?"

"Well, that depends, Mr. Merlyn…" is Helena's answer. The woman and her lawyer engage Tommy in a discussion about the proposed MOA, exploring possible angles that would ensure their unfair advantage. The arbiter just leans back in his chair and starts checking his phone for text messages and missed calls.

"I think my plan is working… for now," I think to myself. I glance at Dig to stay put, and with just one look, he knows that I'm asking him about Lance's whereabouts. He lifts a hand to his chin, all five fingers stretched out. He's telling me that Lance is five minutes out.

It's been the longest five minutes of my life. I remain quiet as Tommy skillfully maneuvers the discussion to prolong it as best he could. Just as time almost runs out, Captain Lance barges into the room with his partner, with detectives Farrell and Castillo, and with two other police officers – Roy Harper and his partner.

"Gentlemen, pardon the intrusion, but we are here to take Ms. Bertinelli into custody," my father-in-law says in an ironically unapologetic tone.

The expression on Helena Bertinelli's face is stone cold and hard as flint. She is about to be arrested, yet she appears proudly unperturbed. Atty. Capella is about to protest when Roy walks briskly towards Helena and begins to cuff her. Captain Lance then begins to recite her rights. "Helena Bertinelli, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Olive Rose and Carrie Cruiser Queen, for being an accomplice to the attempted murder of Oliver and Felicity Queen, and for the murder of Mae Fei. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"

From here on, everything is a blur to me. Of course, I'm relieved and pleased that justice is now being served for all the wrongs that had been done to us and to my poor secretary, but I'm still very much confused as to how it all happened. One by one we leave the room and exited the building. The police escort Helena to the police car that's waiting at the curb. Tommy, Diggle, and I hear her lawyer promise to meet her at the precinct and arrange for bail so that she won't have to spend the night in jail.

"Good luck with that," Tommy mutters. "No judge in his right mind would grant bail that easily to someone facing three felonies, one of which is cold-blooded murder."

I hope not. I really hope not. Someone like Helena Bertinelli shouldn't be allowed to walk the streets of Starling City freely throughout the duration of the trial. No. I can't even begin to imagine what might happen if she's out on bail. She might go after my family again between her temporary release and prison, where I hope she will eventually end up. However all of this goes down, I'm counting on the police and the district attorney's office to do everything right in order to ensure that there's enough evidence to lock her away for good… for the sake of my family and in the name of justice.

Emily:

In the six days since my younger sisters have been back, I had made it a point to look after them myself. I knew that Mom wasn't in tip-top shape yet, so she and Dad needed Stephen and me to step up. Every morning I'd wake up to my alarm and make sure Lucia is already making a hearty breakfast, with at least one of my sisters' favorites. Then I'd go back upstairs to wake them up and get them ready for the morning meal. I've been having so much fun playing "big sister," something that I should have been doing voluntarily before all this crazy stuff happened. I didn't really have to wait for a life-threatening situation before I realized how much my siblings mean to me and how much I needed to show them that I do care about them.

Six days ago, the FBI agents and the police brought my sisters safely home. By the time Stephen and I arrived at the mansion with Uncle Tommy, Aunt Sara, Uncle John, and Uncle Roy, Aunt Thea had already gotten them washed up and ready for bed, even if was already five o'clock in the morning. The girls had insisted on sleeping in her room because they were still quite shaken up and didn't want to sleep by themselves in their respective rooms. As soon as Liv and Carrie saw me standing at the door of Aunt Thea's room, they hopped out of bed shouting "Emily!" They ran straight into my open arms and we hugged like there was no tomorrow. At that very moment, with tears rolling down our faces, I knew. I knew I had to stop being selfish and jealous all the time. I knew that each of us is special in our own way, and that our parents loved us all the same. I knew that I loved my siblings very much. I knew that I needed to try my very best from now on to put their needs before my own. I knew that each day I get to spend with them mattered now more than ever.

Everything that's happened recently made me realize that the Queens are a family, a family that I most certainly am an important part of. I belong… even if I have a different biological father. It doesn't matter how many more Queen babies turn up. I am loved none the less.

In fact, come to think of it, all of us are loved, including the precious one we had sadly lost. I would have wanted to find out what he or she looked like. I would have eagerly helped Mom take care of him or her. I would have treated her differently from how I'd treated my siblings before the series of unfortunate events made me realize I needed to shape up. I would have cherished and protected our little bundle of joy, if only he or she was given the chance to make it through seven more months. I would have. And if I never get the chance to do all that for another Queen baby again, I most certainly would do it for TJ, Liv, and Carrie, with Stephen's help.

My brother and I had made a pact the day Mom was brought home from the hospital. Stephen and I agreed and promised each other that we would have each other's backs and that we would take good care of our siblings from now on, even after Mom and Dad are gone (if we get to live long enough), and even if one of us has to go before the other. We had gone to our parents that night and told them about the pact. Both teary-eyed, Mom and Dad told us how proud they were of us and how much they appreciated the gesture and the promise. They reminded Stephen that he's the next man in the house, and that they are counting on him to be responsible as he is the oldest of the five of us, emphasizing that this holds true even now that he seems to have started having some sort of a love life. (I couldn't help but laugh at that point!) They reminded me that I am next in line, and that I should put my smarts to good use instead of making it an outlet for rebellion. (That was Stephen's turn to laugh and tease.) That night, the four of us bonded like we've never bonded before. My heart was filled with a sense of peace that all is well once again in the Queen home.

The flashbacks in my mind are disrupted by the giggles of Liv, Carrie, and TJ. I look up and see them with Stephen, who lifts them one by one onto their seats around the long kitchen counter. Everyone is enthusiastic about breakfast, seeing the scrumptious meal prepared by Lucia. I realize I had wandered off in my musings as I sat in my spot for I don't know how long; the butter I was supposed to spread on top of my pancake minutes ago had already melted.

As we enjoy our hearty breakfast, we hear voices at the foyer. There is some sort of commotion. "What's going on?" I ask Stephen.

"I don't know, Ems. You stay here with the kids. I'll find out what it is," my brother replies.

Stephen immediately stands up and heads out the kitchen to the foyer. Shortly, I hear his voice say, "Grandpa! What's going on?" And then I hear my mom's anxious voice, too. "Quentin! Thanks for coming so quickly." I could hear her footsteps coming down the stairs.

Something's going on all right, and I sure would like to know what it is.

Stephen:

Grandpa Quentin, his partner, and an SCPD IT specialist left the mansion in a hurry about thirty minutes ago after my mom showed him a video clip from her tablet. I recognized the voice of the woman on the video as Ms. Fei's, but I couldn't really make out what she was saying from where I stood. I didn't really understand what was going on. We were told Ms. Fei had been killed by some mysterious woman, and I felt bad that my dad's secretary ended up dead because she had helped the kidnappers take my younger siblings. Mom had told me to go back to the kitchen and help Emily with the little ones. Hesitantly, I obeyed. I walked back to the kitchen as my grandpa's and my mom's frantic conversation faded from my ears.

By the time I get back to the kitchen, Emily was already helping Carrie with her last bite of pancake. TJ was sipping the last few drops of milk from his glass, and Liv was getting ready to jump off the bar stool. It's a good thing I got there right in time to catch her before an accident happens. It has happened more than once before. Soon, Emily and I are taking the kids to their rooms and helping them with their morning baths. As soon as the three of them are settled in the playroom, I knock on the door of Emily's room.

"Hey, Ems!" I greet my sister as I lean my right shoulder against the door frame of her room. "What do you say we go ask Mom what happened a while ago?" Like me, Emily is just as intrigued, so she agrees to accompany me to our parents' room.

"Come in," Mom says after three knocks on their door. "Oh, hi, you two!" she greets us enthusiastically. "I'm guessing you're here to ask about what's going on?" she asks. The wide grin on her face tells me that whatever it is that's going on, it isn't bad news. Without even a word of explanation out of her mouth yet, I am already relieved.

"Yeah, Mom, what's going on?" Emily asks. "Stephen told me Grandpa was here."

Mom taps on her bed, inviting both of us to come and sit with her. Still smiling, she says, "Don't worry. Nothing bad is going to happen again. In fact, from now on I'm pretty sure things are going to start to go back to normal, now that the person that's ultimately responsible for everything that happened is in police custody."

"Who?" Emily asks.

"It's Helena Bertinelli. It turns out she was the one who masterminded the kidnapping and manipulated Slade Wilson into killing your Dad and me. She was also the one who shot Ms. Fei," Mom answers.

"Helena? Your ex-assistant?" Emily asks again in disbelief.

"Same one," Mom answers again.

"But why?" I ask incredulously. "How did that happen?"

"Revenge," my dad's voice echoes in the solid wood-paneled bedroom. My sister and I have been so engaged in the shocking revelation that we didn't notice Dad entering the room.

"You're back," Mom says to him. "How did it go?"

"Smoothly," Dad replies with a smile. He moved closer, crouched down over the edge of the bed to kiss Felicity on the forehead. "It's over. We can now sleep soundly and not worry about a vengeful killer on the loose. Thanks to your quick thinking, I suppose," he adds. Dad kisses our mother now, and she kisses him back. When they don't quit after a couple of seconds, my sister and I look at each other and we roll our eyes in frustration.

"Wait, wait a minute!" Emily interrupts, causing our parents to break their kiss. "We can give you lovebirds the privacy you need in a while, but please! Please give us first an acceptable explanation – no matter how brief – before we leave you two to do whatever it is you're starting to do."

"Ems… careful," I mumble, trying to warn my sister not to cross the line.

"Sorry," Emily says with a sigh.

"Apology accepted," our mom acknowledges.

"All right," our dad says. He pulls up a chair and sits directly in front of us beside their bed. "Listen, and listen well. When I'm done, you can ask the questions you want to ask." My sister and I nod our heads in agreement.

Dad begins to explain, "Your mom called Grandpa this morning as soon as she viewed a video from Ms. Fei, which was sent to her and my office email addresses. In this video, Mae Fei confessed-"

"Mae Fei? Who's that?" Emily suddenly butts in. Dad glares at her, clearly annoyed since he had told us not to interrupt him. But after a while he realizes he did owe the two of us some background information.

"I'm sorry. I forgot you two didn't know," Dad apologizes this time. "The secretary who'd been working for me is really Mae Fei, the twin sister of the real Shado Fei. Shado had passed away in a car accident before her sister Mae, who is a computer expert, stole her identity and got herself hired as my secretary at QC. It was all part of the plan that Helena Bertinelli had planned from the time she learned that Slade Wilson got out of prison on parole."

"And how are Mae Fei and Helena Bertinelli connected?" I ask curiously. The idea of the two assistants scheming together did not sit well with me, considering they were working so close to our parents. It's disconcerting to realize the danger our parents have been in for some time without anyone knowing about it.

Mom is the one to answer now. "According to Mae Fei's confession, Jake Spirelli, the other guy who was imprisoned for attacking me Christmas Eve years ago, is the common link. It turns out Spirelli is Helena's older 'half-brother' of sorts because he was Helena's mother's son in her first marriage. Helena's mother died when she was only six years old, so Spirelli practically raised her like his own daughter, considering the age difference between them. Helena herself had been involved in Spirelli's drug ring, dealing drugs to fellow teens all throughout high school and college. Mae admitted that it was actually Helena who convinced Spirelli to persuade me to come to the States on a fiancée's visa because the half-siblings saw her value as an IT expert to their drug syndicate. Everything had been going well for the three of them, and Slade Wilson, until that fateful night when they got arrested for attacking me and Oliver. Later in a prison brawl, Spirelli was killed and Slade Wilson was stabbed in the eye."

Dad continues to tell the awful tale. "At first, Helena only planned to set me up with a labor complaint and draw up charges against me for sexual harassment. She only wanted to extort money and drag the Queen family name down the drain. That was the original plan that she confided with Mae Fei, who at the time was already her friend and roommate. But when she found out that Slade had been released from prison on parole, she had Mae Fei track him. When they found him, he was already a changed man. Prison had hardened his conscience, and the horrific stories of prison that he'd told her changed her, too. When she learned how much they'd suffered in there, her original plan evolved into a full-blown criminal intent. It didn't take much convincing by Helena for him to participate in her evil plan to avenge her brother's death. She and Slade, in turn, convinced Mae Fei to join their vendetta because they needed her technical expertise to carry out their plans. Helena had Mae turn in her resume at QC when she learned that the position for Oliver's assistant was open for hiring, knowing that they could more effectively implement their plans with the two of them working in closely with me and Oliver. Mae confessed in the video that the plan was to kidnap the kids because that was easier accomplished compared to taking the CEO and the Board President in such a secure facility as QC, and to ask for their ransom, in addition to the huge amount of money the company would pay to keep Helena from going public with her labor and sexual harassment complaints."

"Mae swore she didn't know that Helena and Slade had really planned to take us in exchange for the girls and then kill us in cold blood," Mom goes on to explain. "Mae only suspected foul play when she overheard Slade call Oliver asking for an exchange – the two of us for Liv and Carrie. She realized that Helena and Slade couldn't be trusted and that her own life was in danger. Afraid of being double-crossed, she recorded a full confession with her i-phone and uploaded it into her account when Slade left for the rendezvous point. She set it up so that if she did not log in to her account in seven days, the email with the video attachment would be automatically sent to Oliver's and my email addresses. She left the confession as her insurance policy, just in case something happened to her."

"And it did," Emily says, unable to keep her mouth shut anymore. "That's what she gets for hanging out with criminals."

"Emily! Watch your mouth," Mom scolds her. Emily purses her lips tightly in response. "Whatever Mae Fei did, she's paid for it with her own life. She doesn't need us judging her any more. Your sisters also did say that she tried to keep Slade from hurting them and TJ. Despite everything, she wasn't all that bad."

"I'm sorry," is all that Emily mutters.

"Well, that's all history now. Helena Bertinelli is going to jail for her crimes. Our family is all together, and we're safe. That's all that matters to me," I say after keeping quiet all this time.

Dad pats me on the back and says, "Amen, son!" He stands up and reaches out for Mom's hand. "Come on, let's all go see what the little ones are up to. I told Diggle to take the rest of the day off. Because I'm taking the rest of the day off from work and spending it with my beautiful wife and our five lovely children."

"I like the sound of that," Mom says with a warm smile on her face, as she takes his hand and gets up from the bed. The four of us march to the playroom and find TJ, Liv, and Carrie playing with their plastic light sabers, pretending to be Jedi younglings in training.

Liv:

Today has been a truly terrific day! After lunch together at the mansion, Dad took us to the country club for an afternoon swim. It's been a while since we've been there, and they've added a brand new, 5-feet-high, red slide to the kiddie pool. TJ and I had a blast taking turns climbing the ladder and splashing down the slide into the water where Stephen was there, ready to catch us each time. We had so much fun!

Mom and Emily decided to spend the afternoon in the club salon because Dad said that Mom wasn't quite ready yet to go for a swim. When they met us at the club's recreation room that Dad had reserved exclusively for us for the rest of the day, I clapped my hands and shouted, "Gorgeous! Hey, guys, look! Mom and Emily look gorgeous!" Dad and Stephen, who were busy playing billiards in the corner of the room, turned around and their mouths gaped open. Mom and Emily had their finger nails and toe nails done; Mom's were painted blood red, while Emily's were painted bright pink. Emily obviously had a haircut, her blonde hair now chin-length, layered, and styled. Mom looked absolutely fantastic. Her naturally smooth and wavy blonde hair had been straightened, attractively tumbling down her shoulders. Her face glowed as if sunshine itself reflected on it; it's like one of those models in beauty magazines endorsing skin care treatments.

Dad walked over to our mother and immediately pulled her in for a tender kiss on the lips. "You look perfect, honey," he said to her. Mom simply smiled and blushed. "New dress?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," Mom replied, "After all the crazy things we've been through lately, I thought I could use some pampering and a nice new dress to wear. Found this nice piece in the club's boutique, and I knew it was something that my husband will surely appreciate."

Dad traced the strap of her new red summer dress with his finger from the top of her shoulder to the edge of the dress's bust line, and then he remarked with a mischievous grin, "Your husband surely does."

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Queen," Mom responded with gratitude. "I told the cashier in the boutique to put this on your tab." Mom winked at him, kissed him on the cheek, and put down her things on the nearest table.

For the rest of the evening, we played different kinds of games. Pizza, pasta, and drinks were brought in by the club's servers a short while back.

Now, we're eating dinner while watching the Ninja Turtles 2 movie on the giant LED screen. Mom groans in admiration the first time the actor playing Casey Jones appears, and carelessly confesses that the guy is her latest favorite actor because he looks a lot like Dad. Dad glares and frowns at her, and she knows she's in trouble. She instantly tells all of us that Dad is way more handsome and sexier than that actor. "Yeah, right!" we all shout and laugh. Dad then tickles her side and tells her that he was just teasing.

I just love watching the fluffy stuff of our parents, and I love seeing our family having fun together. It's days like this that make me thankful to be part of the Queen family, even though sometimes we have it rough. Even though I'm sad that we had lost the baby in Mommy's tummy, I'm really happy that Carrie and I made it back safe and sound.

TJ:

After our afternoon swim, Stephen helped me shower. Dad had given the girls their baths and was busy getting them dressed. It's a good thing he reserved a private bathroom for our family, otherwise, it would be awkward for Liv and Carrie to come with us to the boys' bathrooms. Soon we were all ready to go.

Dad told us that we were headed to the recreation room where we would be spending the rest of the day. "Yey!" I squealed. "Do they have Wii?" I asked. Dad said yes. He picked me up and carried me the rest of the way.

As we were walking, Dad remembered something. He turned to me and said, "I just remembered a promise I made to you when the police found you at the basement parking. Do you remember what I promised, son?" I nodded. "You said we would go to the car show," I said. I gave my dad the sweetest smile. "That's right! I'm asking my new secretary to book us two tickets to the Ferrari car show next month," Dad said.

Remembering the promise made me remember that frightening night. I was all alone in that dark basement. I thought my parents would never find me. I was so worried for my sisters, and so scared of that one-eyed man who took them and hurt Ms. Fei. But snuggled up in my dad's arms, and hearing him say, "I love you, TJ," made me feel all better.

I know my parents will always take good care of me. I know Stephen and Emily will, too. When I grow up, I'm going to be just like my Dad and help him run his company. I'm going to draw models of the gadgets, machines, super computers, and robots that my mommy and her team of scientists and inventors at QC can only imagine in their minds. I'm going to make my family proud.

Right now the movie is almost done, and we're enjoying dessert. Mom ordered her favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream for all of us. Everyone is smiling, laughing at Dad's corny jokes. I happen to think they're really funny.

Carrie:

Just as the last spoonful of ice cream goes into my mouth, I hear my mom's phone beep. I reach for it and give it to her. "Mom! You have a text," I say to her and then, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, princess," Mom says. She looks at the screen and says, "It's from Sara."

Mom reads the message, and then I see a smile on her face. It must be good news. I really, really like it when Mommy smiles. It makes her prettier.

Oliver:

"Honey! Listen to this. Sara just texted," Felicity call's my attention with her loud voice. My wife is obviously excited about something that Sara texted her, and she starts to babble. "She says she got the promotion! Her boss in Central City was so happy about her involvement in the Cradle Snatcher investigations and in the way our case went down. Even Agent Hotchner endorsed the promotion. She's now the head of the Missing Persons Division of the FBI headquarters in Central City. She says they're now looking into setting up a branch here at Starling within the next year or so."

"That's great!" I remark. "Tell her congratulations from all of us. And tell her to say hi to Tommy for me. He must be so proud."

"Way to go Aunt Sara!" Emily yelled.

Felicity stands and walks up to me. She softly says something that she doesn't want our children to hear. "Oh, and Sara said to tell you, Honey, that the Cradle Snatcher's been caught. He's in jail in Seattle now, awaiting trial for his serial murders." This is certainly good news. No more innocent, defenseless daughters will be taken from their families, mercilessly killed, and dumped shamelessly by that criminal. Felicity and I hold hands and lean against each other's foreheads as a memorial to the victims and their families, whispering silent prayers of thanksgiving that our family was so graciously spared.

Just then my own phone rings, and I pick up the call. It's Thea. The corners of my lips turn up until my face breaks out into a wide grin.

Felicity:

I can tell it's another good news. When Oliver hangs up, he announces to all of us, "That was your Aunt Thea. Apparently, Aunt Sara is not the only one that's getting promoted. Uncle Roy is, too."

"What?!" I exclaim. "That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, it is!" Oliver answers, looking at me this time. "When Farrell and Castillo filed the final report on the rescue and recovery ops for us and the girls, they put in a good word for Roy and included his contribution to the success of the mission. They recommended that his name be added to the list of police officers in their precinct that were up for promotion. The list made it to the Police Commissioner's desk. Beginning next month, Roy will be a police detective, still in Dad's precinct."

My eyes tear up. Helena's been caught. Sara gets promoted. Roy becomes a police detective. Three incredible blessings in one day. There is cause for celebration, and my husband was so right to pick this day for our family to just let loose.

I love my life, and I can't ask for anything more. I know it won't always be easy, and sometimes dark skies and storm clouds will come. But I have Oliver, and he has me, and we bring back the sunshine for each other in this lonely and broken world. We have our children, and they are the rainbows that color our lives with joy each time we have to sail through a raging tempest. We have everything we need and more. We are the Queens, and we are blessed.

***** THE END *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to say goodbye to this story, and this time, there will be no multi-chapter sequel, perhaps just a collection of shorter drabbles and one-shots taking off from this AU. What do you think?
> 
> So, if there's anything at all that you'd like to say, this is the time to leave a review. Thank you very much to all of you who've read, followed, clicked 'kudos' and reviewed this story. I cannot thank you enough.
> 
> And... aren't we happy that Season 4 Finale kind of gives Olicity the hope of a second chance? :-)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading about the Queens in this AU for the first time, I'm glad you are. I hope you keep reading, or perhaps even back track and read the first story "My Mom & My Dad." Things in this story will make better sense that way.
> 
> For readers of the first story in this series, thank you for choosing to read on into this sequel. What did you think of how things have played out in the last three years? Comments are very much welcome.
> 
> The first time I posted this story, I wasn't aware that I posted it six or seven times. I was having serious Internet problems for hours during that time, and from my end, the story wasn't going through. I kept trying and trying, every time I am told that the posting failed or there is a connectivity problem. It turns out the story got posted each time I clicked post. I apologize for this technical difficulty. I didn't mean to exasperate anyone. I'm thankful to the reader who pointed it out. Now it's fixed. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you can now enjoy the story as it's meant to be.


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